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"Yes, pokemon evolve, and their trainers grow older — but while everything changes, one thing remains true always. Friends can be friends forever, and even if they seem a little different, sometimes you have to look with your heart and not your eyes."
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Phoenix's childhood wasn't very memorable until Miles showed up in it. It could imply any number of things from an outsider's perspective, but to Phoenix, Miles was just an important marker in his life. A bold line separating before and after. Everything changed after Miles Edgeworth made a declaration on his behalf in the fourth grade, a valiant little boy who wore his principles like a badge of honor.
Phoenix came from a civilian family, which was rare considering the statistic showing how much of the adult population was at least tangentially involved working with or for pokemon. It made the experience of having his own pokemon that much more special. He hatched his first ever pokemon from an egg he'd found in the woods by his house, and while his parents had as little experience as he did, they were supportive in letting him keep it.
His partner pokemon was only a few months old when he brought it in for show and tell at school, so when he found himself against the wall, accosted by a demand from a classmate to battle him, he could only grip the pokeball in his hands tightly while the opposition consisting of his classmates grew.
They were not ready for a battle. Domesticated and probably spoiled, in all honesty, he'd never anticipated a situation like this. He'd been naive, coming from a family with zero ties to this world. Kids began preparing their pokemon for battle by the time they could start babbling out training commands, it was just how their world was.
The kid spearheading the crowd stepped forward and smirked before reaching for his own pokeball. "Come on out!"
In a flash of bright white light, a squirtle appeared before them, copying his trainer's smug expression. "What's the point of showing off your pokemon if it can't battle?" he taunted.
The words pulled the tension between them taut. Phoenix could do nothing but shrink back, too young and inexperienced to know what to do when he was outnumbered and cornered. The only thing he felt the urge to do was cry, and the lid he'd kept on that particular impulse was threatening to topple any moment.
"You're a bad trainer if you can't respect a pokemon's feelings."
The voice cut through the crowd like ice. Everyone's bewildered gazes followed the source to find the kid with the bow-tie, who had quietly wandered over to the commotion while no one had noticed. Phoenix openly gaped at him, never having heard him speak in class except to answer a question. All he knew about him was his name.
Miles.
The kid with the squirtle bristled at Miles. "It's not my fault he's a scaredy meowth!"
One of the voices in the crowd piped up, "I bet he knows he's gonna lose. He's just weak."
"Pokemon aren't just for battling, and you aren't weak for knowing your limits," Miles replied firmly.
"Whatever!" the squirtle kid jeered. The sentiment was clearly lost on him. "A challenge is a challenge."
Miles sighed, revealing the cream premiere ball in his hand as he pressed the button in the center to enlarge it. "You people never listen to reason. I suppose you'll be more inclined to a battle, then."
The kid grinned. "You're on."
. . .
Miles trounced him.
Squirtle Kid pretended he wasn't angry while tears pricked at his eyes, returned his pokemon and made himself scarce. With the situation diffused, everyone else dispersed, including Miles. Phoenix could only stare dumbly after him before it occurred to him to follow.
"Wait!"
Phoenix ran after him, pausing only when Miles stopped to survey him, brows furrowed.
"Yes?" he asked.
His tone was polished and precise. He sounded nothing like any of the other kids his age.
Phoenix swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Um… thank you."
"For what?" Miles' brow furrowed even further, gone from mild confusion to completely perplexed.
"For what you said. You got them to leave me alone," Phoenix explained earnestly, meeting his gaze.
Miles shook his head. "I was just correcting him on a misconception. Plus, a battle should only take place between two willing opponents."
Phoenix opened his mouth to protest, to insist that Miles had done way more than that, but found all those words slipping away from him. He continued to stare at Miles, who was still apparently completely unfazed, silvery eyes gazing upon him as if nothing had happened, as if another day of school had gone by as usual, as if he couldn't really grasp what Phoenix was so worked up about. Taking in his expression piece by piece, Phoenix came to realize something.
"You're right," he said instead. As a smile tugged at his lips, and he regarded Miles as he would a friend, stepping in line with him, standing side by side.
Miles slowly returned his smile.
. . .
"I was there! You didn't hear me?"
"Whatever you say, Larry."
"You don't believe me! I swear, you can ask anyone, it was right after he said all that dramatic stuff about respect and feelings and whatever. I said, 'Yeah!'"
"You said… 'Yeah?'"
"Well… yeah. I was agreeing with him. Nobody else was! You don't get it. Nobody understands me…"
Phoenix heaved a sigh at the same exact time as Miles scoffed. Somehow, the three of them had wound up as friends. As for Larry's insistence — truthfully, Phoenix did not care. Larry was Larry, and there was a saying about him that was really beginning to resonate with him and Miles.
"Thanks… I guess," Phoenix finally said. It seemed to placate Larry, who grinned and went back to his video game.
Three sleeping bags were set up on the floor in Phoenix's room. He was beyond excited to have friends close enough to sleep over and was still pleasantly surprised at Miles' acquiescence was a tad reserved, especially juxtaposed by Larry's carefree manner, so Phoenix tended to tread with caution around him. Like he was approaching a litten, sometimes.
"Does anyone else wanna play?" Larry interjected, waving his device around at the two of them.
Miles shook his head. "No, thank you."
"I thought you liked pokemon battles," said Larry, which was when Phoenix noticed the screen on his game. Brightly animated pixilated sprites stared each other down across the battlefield.
"I prefer the real thing," Miles said.
Larry stuck out his tongue at him, though it had little effect on Miles. He turned to Phoenix instead. "Hey, can we see your pokemon again?"
"Maybe in the morning. It's kinda late right now."
"I want a pokemon…" Larry said wistfully. "Something really cool like a blaziken!"
"You'll have to start out with a torchic first," Miles informed him.
"Oh. Never mind then. Wait! You know what I should do? I should just get a ditto. Then I could have everything!"
"In a sense," Miles said doubtfully. "Patience is also a virtue. Training up a pokemon has its merits." At this, Larry grumbled under his breath, possibly performing a crude imitation of him.
The rest of the night passed by uneventfully, and eventually Phoenix's parents came in to make sure they all went to bed on time. Tucked away in their sleeping bags with a nightlight plugged in, the three of them chatted for a few more hours, and then Larry was the first one to go. He snored away next to Phoenix, who turned his back to him so that he could face Miles.
"Are you gonna sleep?" Phoenix whispered.
"Yes," Miles whispered back.
Phoenix watched him, but Miles' eyes never closed.
"It's my first time sleeping at someone else's house," Miles admitted, turning his face the other way.
"Next time, we'll go to your house and we can even it out," Phoenix suggested. "I mean, um… if you're okay with that. If you want to."
"I'd want to."
"… Cool."
A few quiet moments routinely punctuated with Larry's soft snoring passed by. As Phoenix stared up at the ceiling, the silence made him realize how many thoughts and questions he'd had swirling around in his head, all of them about Miles. Phoenix had never grown up around pokemon, and he never got the chance to attend a school that integrated pokemon as a part of their regular coursework. Most of the kids in their class didn't have pokemon, either, which was why he wanted to bring his to class in the first place. Miles clearly knew a lot about pokemon, but that wasn't what Phoenix was impressed by.
"You want to be a pokemon trainer when you grow up, right?" Phoenix whispered.
Miles shifted a little, but kept his eyes on the ceiling as he nodded. "I will be one, yes."
"You'll be great. You care a lot about pokemon," Phoenix said softly, unable to mask the admiration in his voice.
"All trainers should," Miles replied, staring straight ahead.
"But not all of them do," Phoenix said.
. . .
Miles turned his head towards Phoenix to find him staring back, his gaze wide and sincere. In their push and pull of praise and resistance, Miles felt like finally accepting what Phoenix was trying to tell him. Whether it was a strong sense of humility or just plain sensibility, he was the type of child who operated by a strong moral code. Any awards or accolades he accrued were merely he result of abiding by his beliefs, and he never gave any importance to trophies or medals bestowed upon him in turn. That being said, Phoenix's acknowledgement of Miles felt like something he ought to hold close. There was no rhyme or reason behind it, but as he took in the deep brown eyes of the boy across him, he decided he needed none.
Miles wasn't sure what to say, but Phoenix didn't seem to be waiting for him to say anything. Gratitude rushed through him as the realization that Phoenix understood him sank in. He was probably the only one. Someone who accommodated him without question.
Tucking the knowledge away in his heart, he continued to breathe until he drifted off, unable to remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed around someone who wasn't his father.
. . .
Miles would eventually forget, but it was one of the last times he would feel that way around anyone.
. . .
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Phoenix held the Beacon Badge between his thumb and index finger up towards the open sky, sunlight glinting off of its polished exterior. With this, it was eight, and he was qualified for the Lily of the Valley Conference.
This would be his first time competing in the league, and with that knowledge came no shortage of anxiety. There was one competitor in particular he was hoping to face, but even now, it seemed like such a faraway and improbable event that he didn't let himself linger on that hope for long. Phoenix was a rookie in every sense of the word, and while snagging a complete set of badges just in time for the league was an impressive feat on its own, he was one in an entire army of trainers consisting of a sizable number of first-time league competitors.
"So you may be out of your depth a little here. So what? It's not like it'll be the first time."
If he could count on Maya Fey for one thing, it was that uncanny ability of hers to read his thoughts. Phoenix had never considered himself an open book, but he supposed a year-long companionship made things like reading each other's thoughts easier than usual. When he set out on his journey earlier that year, he found himself with this strange otherworldly girl as his company, not as a fellow trainer but as a spirit channeler. She communicated with the spirits of pokemon they encountered on their travels to help them pass on into the afterlife. Her attire and interesting trade earned them some stares wherever they went, but Phoenix had a feeling that even without those things, Maya would still attract trouble wherever she went.
"Though it somehow never gets easier," Phoenix shot back as he pinned the badge on the inside of his jacket.
Maya fell in line with him as she slung her bag over her shoulders and they began walking. "But that's why you have me! I'll be on the sidelines, masterminding your battle strategy one move at a time."
"If you're taking credit for my victories, I hope you'll come through and take the fall when I lose too."
Maya pretended not to hear and skipped ahead, and Phoenix trailed after her with a reluctant smile. They had ample time before having to make it to Lily of the Valley Island, so their next destination was Sunyshore's pokemon center, in search of a warm meal and a good night's sleep. He'd have to train hard in the following days to come, and he and his team deserved a long rest first.
Phoenix was so preoccupied with depositing his pokemon at the counter for healing that he didn’t notice Maya tapping his shoulder repeatedly at his side. When he finally registered her, whirling around to answer, that's when he saw him.
"Dude!"
Larry Butz. The years gone by had added several inches to his height, in addition to a few tawny hairs sprouting from his chin. While he pointed at him, jaw unhinged in apparent continued shock, Phoenix let out a nervous laugh.
"Larry? What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" Larry closed the distance between them, leaning in with teary eyes. Then, he paused, face slackening. "Wait, if you're here… and he is… you're competing!"
"You knew that already," Phoenix accused, pushing him away by the shoulder.
"Nick, the last I heard from you was years ago, and I knew you were starting off on a journey but you never told me where! And if you're here, now, you actually might go against him!"
Maya stepped in between them, waving a hand in both of their faces. "Now seems like a good time to step in. Can anyone bring me in the loop?"
Phoenix heaved an exasperated sigh. What a complicated thing to explain — but leave it to Larry to somehow put the pieces together and reach a conclusion instantly. It was indeed no coincidence that Phoenix decided to compete in the Lily of the Valley Conference the same year as him, and to actually face him was something he'd been hoping for, he acknowledged it was a slim chance at best. Phoenix was miles behind him, having started his journey as a trainer years after him, but all that being said, today, he was here. With the same set of badges.
While Larry enthusiastically introduced himself to Maya and Phoenix contemplated this information in his head, his attention eventually snagged onto the news segment playing on one of the small TV displays anchored to the wall in the main lobby.
"Among the many promising trainers headed for this year's Sinnoh league, a crowd favorite, Miles Edgeworth, has participated in over three conferences and finished off in the Top Four every year. As his mentor, von Karma, ascends to greater heights with his latest induction into the Kanto Elite Four, the expectations remain sky high for this young protege of his. Next, we have Cindy Stone…"
A group of girls had gathered around briefly to listen, later dispersing in apparent disinterest as the news anchor moved on to the next "promising trainer." Phoenix tore his gaze away from the screen, intending to ignore what he just saw, but Larry had noticed it too and crossed his arms, peeved.
"You're better than him at least. He totally ignored me when I ran into him before," Larry muttered annoyedly.
"He's not the same anymore," Phoenix cut in, shaking his head. "I don't know why, but it's been like that ever since he left."
"Is anyone going to tell me who 'he' is?" Maya's cheeks were all puffed out indignantly, having had to be a bystander to the conversation between them both without any context.
Phoenix looked to Larry.
Larry's eyes bulged. "What, you want me to explain it? Don't ever ask me about anything that's happened more than a year ago. I barely remember what I had for breakfast."
. . .
In the end, when all the details were laid bare: that Miles was their classmate and friend, that he'd always wanted to become a pokemon trainer, that his father had been his greatest inspiration to become one, that one day, his father was gone, and Miles had transferred schools faster than Phoenix or Larry could even say goodbye, and that several years later when they finally saw him again it was during his phenomenal performance in the Vertress Conference in Unova, they were still left with lingering questions. None of those facts explained why every time he gave an interview, or any time he was spoken of on paper or off the record, the von Karma name was mentioned and his philosophies he spouted for training (and more importantly, winning) were, quite frankly, harsh. There was even talk of refs being bought out to rule in his favor, as a few were suspicious of his stellar win record.
Phoenix didn't believe that.
"That's why you became a trainer?! To meet Edgeworth?"
Phoenix's report card made his mother laugh once when he brought it home, and when he peeked over her shoulder to see what had provoked her amusement, he'd seen the words: Very stubborn. Difficult to reason with once he's set his mind on something.
"I planned on finding him eventually. Across the battlefield, as equals, where he couldn't ignore me."
"He really knows how to freeze a guy out, huh?" Larry remarked as he leaned far back into his chair, arms behind his head.
Maya shifted in her seat and leaned her elbows on the table, giving Phoenix a pensive look. "So what happens when you face him?"
At this, Larry suddenly stood, the legs of his chair scraping back at the tiled floors. "You put up a good fight, what's what! Come on, Nick, we gotta train!"
Phoenix balked at him. "It's already night out!"
"Doesn't matter we don't have a second to waste! Maya, will you drag him out of that chair?"
"On it!"
They didn't get much serious training done that night, but they had fun all the same. That was one of the most important parts of traveling, and Mia had always reminded him to never lose sight of those things.
The competitive training scene required spirit, determination, and a real desire to win. But centering your entire being around a win, when losses were second nature in competition — that's where so many trainers went wrong. Differing training philosophies existed in their community, though it seemed as of late, an extreme view of what good training practices entailed was gaining popularity. Phoenix encountered it himself in the year he spent traveling the region, battling trainers along the path. It made him wonder more about the potential influences behind this shift, but it was never something he lingered on for long. Just getting through each gym battle was enough to occupy his entire head-space, and even Maya's masterful strategies (being thrown at him mid-battle from the bleachers) weren't always enough to save him. He was flying by the seat of his pants.
With that knowledge, he went to sleep. He'd cross the Miles Edgeworth bridge if and when he got there.
. . .
The journey to Lily of the Valley Island sped by with the company of both Maya and Larry, never a dull moment among the three of them. Phoenix got the chance to catch up with Larry properly, listening to his exploits over the past years trying on different careers like outfits. He had tried collecting badges for the league, joining the Pan Regional Breeder's Society, and even taken a stab at the Pokemon Connoisseur Association in Unova. Lately, he'd been drawn to contests, and he went on rambling about how it took a real artist to understand coordinating. For the next season, he was planning on seriously competing in the next Grand Festival.
"Trust me, I've got a real star on my team, she could really do it!"
Aboard the ferry, they were permitted to have small pokemon aboard. Larry pushed the button on his pokeball, a brilliant flash of light welcoming his partner pokemon.
Sylveon mewed and walked to Larry's side, automatically wrapping her feelers around his leg. He picked her up and she settled loaf-like in his lap while he stroked her milky white fur. Phoenix couldn't help but smile at the two of them, thinking this might be where all of Larry's endless reserves of affection went. He had yet to hear about a new girl in his life, but he wasn't going to go around poking him with a stick about it.
"She's so cute," Maya cooed, giving her a small scratch behind the ears with her finger. Sylveon purred underneath all the attention. "I think you guys make a great team, Larry."
"What about you, Maya? A girl as stylish as you has gotta be a coordinator, right?"
Maya shook her head but gave him a good-natured smile. "No. I communicate with spirits!"
Larry, surprisingly, didn't react save for a tilt of his head. "Huh. Is it like, a superpower, or something you can actually learn?"
"Well… it can't be taught, no."
Maya's family came from Ecruteak City in Johto, from a long line of women who had the mysterious supernatural power that most people usually never heard of. Phoenix did question from time to time how such an incredible thing could be so unknown, but it seemed like a mystery that would take time to unravel. Phoenix had found a partner in Maya in the most unexpected of ways, the circumstances being something neither of them preferred to dwell on, so Phoenix cleared his throat, directing their attention towards him.
"We're here," Phoenix said as the island came into full view.
Covered in greenery, with plenty of small houses and tourist stalls visible as far as the eye could see, likely in anticipation of the heavy influx of trainers and subsequent tourism. It was already crawling with people as far as the eye could see, and the butterflies that came with the acknowledgement of the beginning of a fierce competition begin fluttering in Phoenix's gut.
. . .
Registration, checking in to the pokemon center, and figuring out the very important question of what to do about dinner were all things that transpired in rapid succession on their first night on the island. From there, they helped Phoenix train in the following days, or acted as moral/emotional support once their usefulness as adversaries reached a stalemate. Maya had her Lampent, Espurr, and Misdreavus and Larry brought an interesting mix in addition to his Sylveon to the training field. Phoenix learned the most from battling his Vileplume, whose Effects Spore special ability poisoned more than one pokemon on his team.
As ready as he could possibly be, he showed up on the day of the tournament to the enormous arena built laterally to all the hotels and the shopping district, spanning a massive area comparable to any huge sports stadium. One bigger stadium stood centrally while three smaller ones branched out from it in a triangular formation, accommodating the simultaneous matches that would be taking place on different terrains.
The staff at the pokemon center even helped provide trainer profiles of the opponents they would be facing. For Phoenix's first match, a fellow called Gumshoe manning one of the desks handed him a manila folder containing the information of his first opponent: things like the pokemon they used, the moves they knew, and sometimes, even their special abilities.
"I'm the guy you wanna come to for anything league related, pal!" He waved them off with a lopsided grin, and Phoenix made a note of his friendliness for future endeavors.
Larry glanced back at him, raising his eyebrows. "I think that guy's a ranger. He's got the capture styley thing on his belt."
"How do you know so much?" Phoenix wondered aloud as they made their way towards the waiting area. His match would only be taking place later that afternoon.
"I'm a man of many trades," Larry said, flashing him a thumbs up.
"So even rangers come here to help out… the Sinnoh League is huge," Maya remarked, awed.
They chattered for a bit, watching some of the other matches take place on the large television screen mounted on one of the walls. It was a welcome distraction for Phoenix, who was still a bundle of nerves in light of his rapidly approaching first battle. It didn't help that last night, when they had announced the first round of match-ups during the opening ceremony, he had caught sight of Edgeworth on the screen. He'd found him in the crowd, staring straight ahead, not speaking to anyone. He looked so little like the kid he'd once known.
Time passed by slowly, but eventually, Phoenix found himself walking onto the battlefield, Larry and Maya sending him off with as much cheer and good luck as they could.
At midday, the sun shone high in the sky, beating down on the field, covering everything in a layer of muggy heat. His opponent chose not to speak, silently nodding as the referee introduced them both and recounted the rules of their battle. Three versus three.
Phoenix took a moment to breathe, holding the heal ball in his hand tightly to ground himself.
"You may begin!"
Phoenix let his partner pokemon take the stage.
"Decidueye!"
. . .
Phoenix won the battle, leaving him in frazzled disbelief as Maya and Larry took hold of either arm and shook him around with unbridled excitement. He wasn't sure if it was beginner's luck or if he was allowed to give himself credit at all, so he moved around in a confused, slightly optimistic daze.
And because all of them were keeping track now, they watched Edgeworth cinch a victory in his match with complete ease. He had a habit of mocking his opponents and getting under their skin that often led to some rash decision making on their part which he made quick work in taking advantage of.
"Nick," Larry had said, without tearing his eyes away from Edgeworth, "Don't let Edgey mess you up like that."
Phoenix had said nothing, though the acknowledgement that he was no one special, and that Miles would probably be using the same old tactics that he'd use on anyone, and that there was even a chance he didn't remember Phoenix — all of those things settled somewhere deep in his stomach.
And one way or the other, Phoenix would be finding out. The three of them made their way to the announcement board for the next round, scanning for Phoenix's name, they saw it.
Phoenix vs. Miles.
. . .
He had never imagined he'd be facing him so soon.
In the seconds before entering the battlefield, Phoenix went over all the information again in his head. They'd combed through Edgeworth's rotational team, ran through the patterns they'd seen in previous matches, and carefully selected Phoenix's final lineup. As for as preparation went, there wasn't much else Phoenix could do other than to keep his wits about him knowing who he would be facing.
It wasn't the time for doing anything but being present. He owed it to his team above all.
Maya and Larry would be watching from the bleachers that day, apparently joined by Gumshoe who was very insistent on watching their match for some reason. When Phoenix made his way to the battlefield, Miles was already standing across from him, luxury ball in his hand at the ready.
"I hope you're not expecting any special treatment," Edgeworth called out, that self assured smirk plastered on his face.
Phoenix held his gaze without wavering. You've changed, he thought. But it wasn't the time to get distracted now. He waited, and then the referee blew the whistle.
"Chandelure, stand by for battle." Miles released the luxury ball in his hand as the fire-type appeared before him, trilling its battle cry and letting its flames grow in a burst of new energy.
"Starmie! It's your turn." The beautiful red gem on its body shone in the sunlight as it took a proud stance in front of Chandelure, confident from the get-go. A type advantage was certainly a great way to start off, but it was by no means a death sentence. Phoenix remained cautiously optimistic. "Confuse Ray!" he commanded.
Orbs of light began to lift from Starmie's form like bubbles, glowing purple and soaring straight across to find Chandelure, who began to hover more shakily in the air as the attack took its effect. With its stellar accuracy rate, he never had to worry about it landing, only its efficacy.
"Shadow Ball," Edgeworth followed without missing a beat, and the dark, void-like orbs hurling towards Starmie were too fast to dodge. Cowering from the direct impact, it hunched over in pain.
Phoenix was still determined to keep chipping away at Chandelure, knowing it wouldn't be able to break through its confusion every time. "Shake it off! Use Bubble Beam!"
"Substitute!" Chandelure partially took the hit, unable to move at first, but was somehow able to put up its mirror image substitute in front to absorb the rest of the attack. Phoenix's mind raced to think of a strategy — Chandelure already took the impact of an attack it was weak to, and already sacrificed a chunk of its energy creating the substitute. If he went in close and got in one good hit before it could use something like Protect (which he knew Chandelure could use, thanks to his research) he could most likely knock it out.
"Starmie, use Aqua Jet!"
Edgeworth must have known the fire-ghost type's confusion had already faded. "Chandelure, dodge and use Energy Ball."
Phoenix reeled. What?
As Starmie hurtled towards its opponent, completely encased in water, Chandelure swerved out of the way so that the water pokemon had no choice but to come to a screeching halt. In record timing, it spun to aim its grass-type attack at the defenseless Starmie, the sphere of glowing green flying forward to strike it squarely in the gem.
Starmie collapsed.
"Starmie is unable to battle!" The referee declared, and Phoenix's team on the giant televised display dropped by one.
Phoenix returned his pokemon, holding it to his chest. "You did great," he murmured to it quietly.
He had no idea Edgeworth's Chandelure knew Energy Ball.
"It seems like you may have received outdated information," Edgeworth said pompously, eyes glinting with amusement.
He was right. The trainer profiles were not the end-all be-all of information, and you couldn't afford to plan your entire battle strategy around it. Still, acquiring TMs could get pricey, and he truly had no way of anticipating what had just happened. It was fair play, but it still felt very practiced to Phoenix.
"If playing silly tricks to win rocks your boat, then be my guest!" Phoenix shot back, tucking Starmie's pokeball away.
Edgeworth was unfazed. Phoenix bit back his frustration and called out his next pokemon.
It wasn't over yet — and Phoenix was known for being able to turn things around.
. . .
Gumshoe was waiting outside the stadium when Edgeworth stalked by him in a flash, making his way down the path leading to the Pokemon Center. He'd only caught a glimpse of his expression, and it was stormier than he'd ever seen it before. He followed after him, waving a hand and calling out, "Pal! Wait up!"
Edgeworth paid him no heed, hastening his pace and muttering something with clenched teeth that came out in a jumbled, incomprehensible mess. Gumshoe had the feeling it wouldn't be of any use to talk to him out here, so he followed silently until they entered the building. Once Edgeworth was at the elevator, he whirled around, glaring all kinds of lethal weaponry at Gumshoe. "What? Are you going to insist on coming up to my room, too?"
The elevator opened, and Gumshoe followed him inside.
"I'm just checking on you, pal, you…" Gumshoe paused, not wanting to say the wrong thing, knowing Edgeworth was likely in a delicate state. He'd met the von Karmas before, knew what they were like. It was none of his business, but he couldn't bring himself to shelve his genuine concern.
"Everyone loses," Gumshoe finally said. "Even the best of the best."
"Not in the second round," Edgeworth bites back sharply, fists clenched tightly at his side. "And certainly not to some upstart amateur. I was projected to end up in the final round, but then he had to — show up out of nowhere and —" The elevator dinged as it reached their floor.
"Just leave me alone," he muttered, eyes flashing darkly with the promise of there being hell to pay if Gumshoe dared to push further.
. . .
By the time Phoenix found Larry and Maya outside the stadium, they were both too thrilled to speak, and so they settled for jostling him around.
"That was sick! You know how awesome it is for you to take out Edgey in the second round? Dude, the look on his face was priceless!"
"Scary, even," Maya added, brows knitted in mild concern. "Aren't the competitors supposed to shake hands or something afterwards?"
Phoenix thought back to the battle, struggling to recall everything in the adrenaline-soaked haze. "Uh… he congratulated me, I think? It sounded like an insult, though. I don't know how he managed to do that."
He tried to recount the details of his thought process to the other two as they made their way back to their room, but it all felt wrong. He was restless after finally facing Edgeworth, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to talk after he stormed off earlier. Phoenix knew it was now or never, so he excused himself to them both, deciding to go on a walk to clear his head.
Now was the time to say something. Edgeworth had to listen to him now that Phoenix had given him a reason to.
And he wouldn't let him run this time.
To Be Continued.