Reminiscence ~ True Heritage

[madimpossibledreamer]

Happy Father’s Day, and if you don’t celebrate it I hope you have a great day anyway!
Yes there is a Princess Bride reference here. Edgeworth is a nerd.
I think this takes the position of my longest one-shot.
Also if I haven’t made it clear enough, the Japanese honorifics etc for family is because Kurain was settled by Japanese immigrants and they’re still very traditional, so.
I tried searching for punny shopkeeper names and gave up and named her Circe Jewell.
I did think about doing a companion one to the Mother’s Day one for Verdict. Maybe next year.
This entire fic was planned for approximately four days, full-formed. Mostly. I did not plan for the bear.

Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU (Turnabout Histories)
Summary: Miles and Phoenix travel to Kurain for Maya's ceremony to become the Master, but as usual they discover something unexpected along the way.
Word Count: 4982
Rating: T
SPOILERS for Turnabout Histories
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles or Wright/Edgeworth or Narumitsu

 

It is...odd, coming back here. I know it is my home, and yet I fear I will forever feel uneasy, an outsider, in this place. It helps that Phoenix is with me. To be a little overly sentimental, wherever he is feels at least a little more like home. Even still, I—

        “A guy could stand to hear that out loud sometimes, too, Miles,” Phoenix says over Edgeworth’s shoulder, meeting the glare with a wholly undeterred grin. He leans in a little as Miles snaps the journal closed, refusing to give in to the man’s voyeuristic tendencies. “I mean, it’s not like I can read your mind.”

        Miles glances in his direction carefully. Perhaps it’s merely empathy; while not exactly a power of his own, Phoenix has always been very sensitive to the emotions of others, and it’s likely that Miles has been giving some kind of evidence as to his own turmoil for days now, though it’s unlikely Edgeworth could point specifics out himself.

        On the other, Phoenix is, well, prone to passive-aggressiveness, often a sure sign he’s feeling insecure, for some reason. Thinking about the correct approach is only going to make him panic. He can only treat this like a case in court, rather than a personal matter. “You are aware that, most of the time, I hardly know my own emotions any better than you do.”

        Phoenix smiles sheepishly and settles down a bit. “Sorry, I’m probably not making this any easier, huh.”

        It’s...a reach. Not physically. It’d be easy enough to do, but the thought is almost impossible. Still, for Phoenix...perhaps he can find the strength after all.

        The man jumps and looks utterly shocked at the hand-holding. If he can help his partner’s mental state, he will do his best, even if some (perhaps himself included) might say that his best is inadequate.

        As usual, his mind focuses on the details. “Maya almost certainly didn’t tell you. Part of the ceremony will involve you wearing robes of your own.”

        “What? Why?” He’s clearly not looking forward to it, but then, he barely wears his suit. If Edgeworth made more money, he would have insisted on a tailor years ago.

        To everyone in Kurain, it will be very obvious. Unstated. Which is soothing, the order and expectations that mean he need not state any of this out loud. Under the circumstances, he cannot simply say nothing, and Maya is almost certainly forcing him to actually voice this because she thinks it’s funny.

        “Maya has...changed things, a little. It helps that several in the branch families are just about as heterosexual as we are, that many would follow absolutely anything the Main Family says, and that the worst of the lot is Aunt Morgan, who can trouble us no further. However, some aspects are still somewhat traditional.” At the blank stare, Miles sighs. “Neither of us has proposed, but our involvement is basically a declaration of marriage in Kurain. Hence juumai Pearls’...intensity about relationships. In addition, Maya and Onee-san have practically adopted you, so.” He swallows, suddenly unable to meet Phoenix’s eyes. “You are essentially a Fey, by extension of the Main Family. You would not otherwise be able to attend the ceremony, and it requires certain attire to do so. They will also be of use in the future, of course…”

        Phoenix squeezes his hand, derailing his train of thought. And then, of course, the actual train begins slowing down, indicating that they have, in fact, arrived.

        “So, um. This, uh. Us being together. That’s really kind of a serious deal in Kurain, huh,” Phoenix whispers as they stand. Perhaps he had managed a turnabout after all, despite not entirely intending to do so. A reminder that he was, in fact, important and loved. If all he needs is evidence of that nature, Miles is happy to oblige. He nods sharply, and then—ah.

        “It’s...not just Kurain.” He has no other words. He offers all he has. In court, it’s easy, but in court it’s really never about him, it’s about his client and the bigger picture and truth.

        “Guess you always have been more of a gesture guy, anyway,” his partner acknowledges with a goofy grin that does not hide the slight tremble in his words, and then manages, somehow, to stumble over his suitcase, making a huge scene and apologizing to the few other occupants of the train, and, well, if Miles had ever wished for a distraction, he’s found one. The very best, as a matter of fact.

        It’s late, an unfortunate side effect of a case that went overly long and last-minute paperwork that delayed their departure to the last train of the day, though the arrival has them more in the dusky twilight. Maya had said “no, it’s fine, I’m a big girl, I’ve got this, you save your client, I’m proud of you, onii-chan,” but he’d heard the hurt she’d tried to hide, and while he’d been too busy to think about it in the moment because he, in fact, had been rather busy with the trial, driving out all other thoughts, after it was over, there was nowhere he could hide from his thoughts. At least their client this time was a pastry chef, and while a cake wasn’t exactly traditional, he’s fairly certain Maya might make an entirely new rule for the sake of her many stomachs.

        It’s...easier, somehow. He’d been a morning person for so long he can’t remember, anymore, if that condition was natural or simply ingrained after long practice, but there’s something about dawn and dusk. Superstition in Kurain held that such times were ruled by spirits, and while those with protective charms, outsiders, or those who had to would venture outside during such times, they were few and far between. It is also the reason why it is so nostalgic, the sun’s setting rays illuminating just enough of the walls and thatched roofs and, towering above everything else in the village, the Kurain Boulder.

        It was...ridiculous. Or at least, he had believed it to be so, until he saw his first channeling. But there had been times he’d wondered if he, too, wasn’t some sort of spirit, a malevolent one, perhaps. Not out of intention, simply out of his very nature, as if his very presence blighted the world.

        Aunt Morgan was hardly the only one to have whispered such things, and it’s hard to immerse yourself in such a consensus without being swept away a little, even if you didn’t happen to have mind-reading powers.

        So perhaps, his reasoning went, the dawn and dusk were for him, too. In some strange way, it made him, the boy who was barely allowed to speak to anyone, feel a little less alone, though any companions he did have were not human.

        He does, of course, not mention any of this drivel out loud. He is aware he’s being far too melancholy, and Wright—no, Phoenix’s mood is already low, though improving as he whistles a little off-key tune, following Miles contentedly, hand in hand. There’s no need to burden him.

        “Uh, Miles, are we about to get jumped, or have you secretly been a Disney Princess all this time?” Phoenix is trying valiantly not to let the concern he feels enter his voice, but he’s hardly as subtle as he likes to think. Miles squints against the light. It’s hard to make out the shapes, of course, but Miles can be fairly certain those are no youkai lurking in wait.

        He does glare, though in this light it’s hardly effective. “The Jade Princess at best, please, Phoenix. Her powers are no mere plot convenience, but actually have bearing on her position as ruler—”

        He trails off. Phoenix is chuckling. He swallows the hurt, attempting to merely march on to the manor. It has been rather a long day, and perhaps it’s for the best if they get in the futon as soon as possible.

        “Hey, don’t stop. You being a nerd is cute. And sure, I find it hard to get into any of your shows, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing about them, because they’re important to you.” Phoenix gives his hand an extra squeeze, as if for emphasis.

        Fortunately, he’s saved from the need to reply by the stray cats and dogs, who are more than happy to get a little attention from someone they remember and another who may be a stranger but is more than enthusiastic enough to make up the difference. Perhaps they can delay for a little longer.

 

        Miles is aware, despite the feeling of waking suddenly and being in a futon, he is not, in fact, awake. Several clues point to this fact. One is the fact that he is a teenager again, by his stature. And he hasn’t fit this yukata in a little while. Perhaps most strongly, he notes Phoenix’s absence, when that man would hardly have stopped his octopus sprawl.

        He turns toward the entrance to the room, yawning, when he freezes, for there illuminated in the moonlight is a silhouette he knows all too well.

        Others might have needed the help of a picture to remember the long-dead by, but Miles needs no such prop, given the nightmare which had haunted him for so long. He wouldn’t have even bothered trying to fight the verdict if not for Maya’s pleading expressions, and he could hardly deny his little sister anything. The nightmare had begun to fade, a little, but he still had the single picture he had been permitted to keep, now tucked into his desk, just in case.

        “Miles. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man.”

        His voice, though. He couldn’t picture it, in waking life, but here and now he recognizes it instantly, despite the last he could recall of that voice, his father was stressed, not calm and proud.

        Miles bursts into tears. He can’t recall the last time he did so, but now he can’t stop.

        Likewise, he recognizes those arms around him, the hugs that his father would give when he was too overwhelmed.

        “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I wanted to see you again,” his father informs him, and—it sounds like he knows about that case, about his acquittal, about the fact that Father as a ghost had in fact lied to protect his son, but how? How could he know?

        “We no longer speak, given that she is obviously alive now, but I had some enlightening conversations with Mia, among others.” As if reading his thoughts, but he’s never been able to project like that. Still, perhaps...this doesn’t exactly feel like just a dream, no matter how his logical mind tries to discard that absurd notion, so perhaps it’s something about the place, instead. That’s the whole reason Kurain Village is situated where it is, apparently—the area was strong with spiritual energy, making the work of a spirit medium easier, which is also why so many were concerned about yokai, who would also be drawn to the spiritual energy.

        He pulls away, his father wiping away the tears, smiling at him. It’s hardly a confirmation, but then, perhaps he doesn’t need one, not when this is what he feels how he does in court when he’s on the right trail. “Walk with me. I hoped I’d have more time, but I never got the chance and there’s something I’d like to show you.”

        Miles can’t help but smirk. “Evidence?”

        Father laughs, and hell this is healing and nostalgic and painful in equal measure. It’s reminding him of an episode where the Steel Samurai visits his birth village for the last time, knowing that to return once more would bring the wrath of the Evil Magistrate down upon them, so this is the last time he will ever see something so vital to his own existence… “Yes, evidence of a sort. And I’m glad you still have something in your life that brings you such joy.”

        He’s helped to his feet. And then it occurs to him that he’s not sure… “Do you know about Phoenix?”

        The hand on his shoulder is reassuring, but nonetheless makes him flinch, as if burned. To his credit, his father doesn’t move his hand, still reaching out despite the circumstances. “I suspected when you were children, though I didn’t want to say anything. You were both so young and innocent. And I’m happy about that, too, the fact that you managed to find each other again, that you’ve found love.”

        They put on outdoor shoes. It’s unnecessary, in all likelihood. Even in socks, in a dream it’s unlikely that they’ll get them damp and disgusting from a trek through...wherever he’s being led. “I...worry that I will say or do something to drive him away.”

        “Despite what fiction will tell you, love is not easy. As long as you’re making an effort, he knows what you’re like and loves you for who you are.” At one point, Miles will admit he had wondered if he’d been mythologizing, placing Gregory Edgeworth on some sort of pedestal of wisdom, without actual evidence behind it (witness testimony being what it is). Obviously, he was wrong. Father always had a knack of seeing into the heart of the matter that Miles, sadly, lacks, no matter how hard he tries.

        “I’m not sure I’d say that. It’s you who figured out the truth behind my death, not me.” And he actually seems embarrassed about that.

        “Only because Maya prompted me to look closer. I was just as convinced of my own culpability,” Miles points out—and then realizes that’s actually a point to prove his father’s case and not his own. They are both only human.

        It’s odd; he’d also thought he’d picked up his mischievous streak from Maya, but it’s suddenly occurring to him now he’d forgotten things like the time he’d begged to stay up, and for once rather than being the responsible adult his father had decided they would eat ice cream and fall asleep on the couch watching movies. (And then, when he’d complained of yawning all the next day, his father laughed and told him that was part of being responsible; Miles now knew the consequences and could decide, just like Gregory had, whether they were worth it.) He recognizes the slight smirk from a mirror.

        It had made him uncomfortable to be compared to his father. Now that he’s walking beside him, no matter how it makes him feel, he can’t deny that that is only the truth.

        He’s...harsher, perhaps. But also perhaps more committed to the truth, no matter how hard and long the journey to that realization had been. And, odd as it is to think, since he’d only arrived here by imitating his father and Misty Fey, more generous, though it helps that he’s hardly the one that has to deal with every single one of his or Phoenix’s acquaintances, even though, by this point, it feels like half of them are living in the house.

        “I am proud of you,” Father responds smoothly.

        Miles has to look away. He’d believed himself to be devoid of any more tears, but it appears he was mistaken.

        “I’m afraid we’re running out of time. We made it, though.” Father reaches down to pat the ground, and it’s easy enough to memorize the spot. It’s a patch of dirt next to the old overgrown shrine, just a little off the path from where they’d encountered the village’s strays. And, of course, that could apply to himself, Miles muses. “There’s buried secrets here, and they’re for you.”

        He’s gathered into another hug. Tries not to cry, again, knowing that time marches on and he cannot stop it if he even wished to do so. “I won’t say goodbye; under the circumstances, it’d be presumptuous to think I’ll never see you again. Instead, I’ll say this: ‘until the next time I see you’. And remember that I love you, Miles.”

        It’s a surprise that his startling awake happens not to do the same for Phoenix, but he’s always been a deep sleeper. Miles can still feel the wet tracks on his face, his father’s warm hug. He could roll over, allow himself to do the smart thing, the sensible thing, but he can’t ignore this. Time for another hunt for the truth.

 

        “Where are we going?” a slightly breathless voice whispers behind Miles, and he bites back a startled exclamation.

        It’s Phoenix. Of course it is. Having run here, it seems, though he’s taking the opportunity to catch his breath. He’s lucky that didn’t make Miles drop his small torch—er, flashlight—an essential companion on many an investigation.

        Phoenix smiles, but it’s hardly a smile. He’s angry, but attempting to hide that fact. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m definitely not letting you just wander around in the woods at night, especially not here. Where are we going?”

        This yukata is a little too thin for the chill in the night air, and the utter absurdity and shame of what he’s doing strikes him suddenly. “I should’ve woken you,” he realizes, though the thought of actually trying to explain what he’s doing feels a little paralyzing.

        His partner can be...a little dense, at times. He isn’t now, taking in Miles’ expression and releasing all the anger in a long, slow exhale. “You’ve seen me in court. I’m pretty sure nothing you’re doing could be more embarrassing than some of the stuff I’ve done.”

        He puts an arm around Miles’ shoulders, though tenses slightly when Miles actually leans in, clearly surprised. He’s cold and—he’ll admit it now—the reassurance is quite nice, too.

        “I had a dream of my father, who approves of us, and he...led me to something.” It’s hard to read his partner’s expression at this angle, but he’s pretty sure it’s not...judging. Or any other expression he had expected.

        “Again, that’s one of the less weird things I’ve heard. Or done.” He moves back away, but he slips a hand into one of Miles’ own as he does so, and it’s a warm, pleasant anchor. “Mostly I was worried about, well, you know. Next thing you know, you’ll be tripping over a dead body.” Or you’ll become the dead body remains unsaid. That’s appreciated. “I don’t know if that’s really superstitious, but.”

        “If there’s a place for superstitions, it’s here.” Ridiculous it may be, but when the impossible has been demonstrated time and time again, what other ‘impossibilities’ lie in wait? There’s something about walking around here at night that feels even more dreamlike than the dream he’d actually had. It’s hard for Edgeworth to tell if they’re both keeping their voices low to avoid disturbing others or if, in fact, they’re both trying not to break the atmosphere of this place. “And, in any case, it’s only human to notice a pattern.”

        “Guess you really know your way around this place, huh.” It’s a remark that doesn’t require a response, but it might not hurt to indulge Phoenix’s curiosity anyway.

        The walk here had been shorter before, but then, that had been a dream. “It’s fairly small, and—well. You’ve probably gathered from visits before this, but they weren’t used to having a small boy around. I spent a lot of time wandering the village, when I wasn’t studying—Mystic Misty made sure to acquire things for homeschooling, although some of it ended up being done by myself alone. Did you go to the little tourist shop at all?”

        “Eh, I didn’t really end up having time. I was going to do it maybe after the channeling, but…” But then the murder happened, yes. Fair enough.

        “When I was indoors, I was often there. Jewell-san liked having the help, when she was feeling well enough to open the store, and since she was exposed more to the outside world…” He shrugs, fairly certain he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. “Sometimes I’d walk all the way up to Mt. Mitama to the inn. The Twins were odd, but they didn’t mind the company either, though I doubt they open it often these days, either.”

        “I’m...guessing you don’t know their names.” Phoenix sounds like he’s attempting to be cheerful. He’s probably noticed the loneliness Miles can’t help, when thinking about his childhood.

        “They’re actually a mother and daughter, but no one knows their age or could tell them apart, that I knew, so I simply followed suit despite the unsuitability of the nickname.” Edgeworth shrugs, pushing a branch out of the way so Phoenix doesn’t have to duck as they finally reach the side path. “I sometimes was able to talk to visitors, but other than Mia and Maya, I believe I was closest to the animals.”

        “So, not exactly pets, but…” Apparently, that helped. “...I had Larry.”

        The face Miles makes is probably part of the point, but he still feels as if he’s committed some sort of error somehow. From Phoenix’s laugh, though, it appears he has not. “Other than that, I was in theater, and sure, I hung out with people, and everyone said I was really nice, but…” He wasn’t close with anyone, really, which had much the same effect. That made sense.

        “That probably explains some of the melodramatics,” Miles muses, twisting out of the way of the retaliatory elbow without a change in his stride. “...And your sexuality, come to think of it. From everything I’ve heard, that is.”

        “In my experience, yeah.” Phoenix falters a little as he notices the abandoned shrine. “Uhh. We’re not going to get possessed, are we?”

        “If you’re concerned, you could clean it up a little to appease whatever kami lives here, while I dig.” At least, that’s what he can vaguely recall from one of the times he’d managed to sneak into the records room, though even the name of the shrine had been forgotten—he suspects it had been seen as some sort of rival to spirit channeling and deliberately discarded, but it’s merely a hunch based on the tone of the unnamed writer.

        Phoenix gulps, but goes to do what he’s told—that’s right, he has some Japanese heritage, doesn’t he—while Miles casts around and finds a stick, scraping at the ground.

        He finally hits something when he hears his name hissed and freezes, much as he suspects Phoenix had, because a huge bear lumbers into the clearing...delicately, if such a word can be used for such a beast, and deliberately, slowly, comes toward him. It’s impossible to tell if it’s trying not to spook him or if it’s actually attempting to sneak up on him and eat him. He’s not aware of any known bear attacks in the area, but it has been a while since any have even been seen in the village. What were you supposed to do when faced with a bear? Make yourself look larger, right. He feels utterly ridiculous, but he reaches his arms up, as far as they’ll go, and the bear actually lumbers to his feet, Phoenix letting out a pained, scared “Miles…”, and…

        Starts digging. Until the edges and lid of an ancient, wooden box can be seen, and then leans forward in something that, if one was feeling rather hysterical, could be a bow, and then it backs away, turns around, and leaves the exact same way it had come.

        Miles realizes rather abruptly that he hasn’t been breathing and gasps for air.

        “Uhh, Miles, did that...just happen?” Phoenix, from the sound of it, is just as hysterical, and Edgeworth begins trembling, because it is chilly and this is too much for one night.

        “I suggest we open the box elsewhere.” His partner abruptly unfreezes and practically sprints over. Miles only has a second to brace himself before Phoenix, weepy and terrified, is nearly knocking them both over. Still, from the looks of things, he’d done a good job. No matter how much he complains about cleaning, he is rather good at it.

 

        Mia had heard some commotion during the night, but it’s not until she sees an exhausted, red-eyed, and utterly serious Phoenix sitting at the dining room table staring at a weathered lacquered wood box set on the table. It looks like a twin to Aunt Morgan’s, if in much worse condition. He glances up when she opens the door, managing a half-smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to see you and Edgeworth arrive,” she offers, all too aware that there’s still this odd distance between herself and her former intern—but then, she doesn’t remember being dead.

        “I don’t care how weird it is for you, you should be calling him Miles. It’s weird for him too,” Phoenix insists, and it’s not like he hasn’t hinted at this before, but apparently he’s reached his limit.

        It is ridiculous, perhaps, still holding his being an asshole in a trial that never even happened for him against him, but adjusting has been difficult. Though she knows that’s still just an excuse.

        She closes her eyes. It’d been strange enough walking into a world where Phoenix and Maya had practically moved on without her, let alone suddenly having a brother she vividly remembers calling her a ‘novice bimbo’, but...she shouldn’t be taking it out on this version of him, and if she’s honest it’s largely insecurity, as much as she doesn’t want to admit she can be that petty. It didn’t feel as if she had a place anymore, and like a bratty older sibling she’s been taking that out on him, as if Maya and Phoenix of all people didn’t have enough room in their hearts for both of them. She’d never wanted the title of Master of Kurain, and it seems like Maya isn’t merely taking it out of obligation, so that shouldn’t feel like the loss it does. Phoenix (and Edge—Miles, if more formally) had mentioned on multiple occasions that she was more than welcome as an addition to the office, once she’d gotten her bearings. “You’re right, Phoenix.”

        She opens her eyes to see him grinning like he’d just won a court case, but doesn’t have time for a fuller conversation before she hears the cheerful chatter of her sister (and brother, she reminds herself) approaching.

        It’s a slight surprise to see Maya carrying a yawning Pearls—while her cousin might be an early riser, it’s still clearly too early, even for her. Maya herself looks awake, but she’s almost certainly hyped up on caffeine and sugar and probably hadn’t even slept last night.

        “She deserves to be here for this,” Miles snaps somewhat defensively when he notices she’s looking, and it’s...odd. Realizing that the reason he’s so standoffish is because he’s hurt. And it’s because of her. She hurt him.

        All right, she can fix this, too, even if it’ll take some work. Fortunately, she happens to be a lawyer, so she can manage dramatics with the rest of them. She glances at everyone, Miles included, then states deliberately, “If you wanted the whole family here, then I think you’ve managed to get everyone.”

        He opens his mouth and then snaps it right back shut again, flustered, and then for some reason glances at Phoenix. Who, still grinning, shakes his head, deliberately. Interesting.

        He waits to speak further until they’re all seated. Nervous? “I had a dream about my father,” he begins, Phoenix grabbing his hand, and yes, apparently he is nervous. “Who led me to what he called ‘buried secrets’. Phoenix and I then retraced those steps and found this. Phoenix, if you would.”

        Apparently, judging by Phoenix’s wince, he’s leaving things out, but Phoenix goes ahead and opens the box carefully, pulling out pages and handing a few to everyone.

        It takes just a quick skim of the first to realize why they’d both been acting so weird, because this is a love letter from a ‘Gregory’ to her mother, and there’s only one Gregory she knows of that would have anything to do with the situation.

        “You’re really family!” Pearls screams, apparently entirely wide awake at this point, and launches herself straight out of Maya’s arms at Miles. Who looks even more flustered, but does barely manage to catch her.

        And that’s interesting, because the last she knew, Pearls couldn’t read, so someone’s been teaching her. Odd as the image is, knowing what she knows now—no, now that she’s actually bothering to look—she suspects that might have been Miles.

        Maya’s crying, but grinning even wider than she had when she’d been nerding out about Steel Samurai, and Miles isn’t bothering to meet anyone’s gaze but his eyes are suspiciously wet. Maya’s still reading, so Mia allows herself to look at the bottom two pages (addressed to her, apparently, one in her mother’s familiar handwriting and one in the same as that love letter), before glancing back up. She’ll read the rest later, though it makes sense Maya’s continuing just to have that extra support for her big day. “We shouldn’t be spread out like this. Pearls has the right idea; we should be having a nice big family hug. You too, Phoenix.”

        Phoenix is probably going to join Maya in crying like a baby with a nice matching smile, but he actually salutes her as he gets up, too. “Yes, ma’am.”

        “You’re both dorks,” Maya insists, but soon they’re all in a nice crushing group hug, getting dazzled from the light of a camera going off.

        “I brought it for after the ceremony,” Phoenix explains, lowering his arm. The angle might be awkward and it’ll probably turn out to be a terrible photo, but it’ll undoubtedly be treasured anyway.

        “I had better get a copy,” Mia mock-threatens to smiles. And to think she’d felt so alone.