Author's Note: Hahaha, hey, guys... Who's ready for an actual sequel to Phoenix Wright: Ace Tribute? I haven't given up on Tributes and Tribulations, but I've been a lot more excited about writing this one, so let's go ahead and give it a shot.

This round, most of the characters come from Dual Destinies, so ahead lie spoilers for that as well as for the previous fan fiction installment.

Enjoy!


This isn't the way it should end. Where I am now, I can't hope for much good, but I should have at least kept it from coming to this. I shouldn't have made this happen. I should have stopped myself... from a lot of things.

But I can't change course anymore. I lost that option a long while back.

The air in my throat freezes as the knife drives home.


"You're hogging the mirror, Sleeves!"

I try to elbow the kid away, but I can't jostle him much without dropping my tube of hair gel.

"I'll just be one more second, promise!" I manage to bump him away with my hip.

It's not like this is the only mirror on the boys' side. I have just as much a right to it as anyone else.

I slick a few more layers of gel over my hair spikes and straighten up. I think I'm good now. My tie is straight, my sleeves are even, and... Hot dang, my hair looks good.

"All right, go ahead." Wiping the extra gel on my bare wrist, I duck away from the mirror so the next kid has full access. He doesn't thank me.

I take a deep breath. Okay. Reaping Day. Nothing I can't handle, and nothing I haven't handled before. Okay! I'm ready! Just one more thing...

Ducking around some of the other boys, I make it to the common room and then out the door before anyone even thinks of stopping me. Not that they would have much of a reason to. They've learned it's best for me to be far from the building before I start up.

The usual place is distant enough from the main square to not be a problem. I haven't gotten any complaints outside of the home, though, so I bet I could warm up anywhere. But this is a nice spot. Good acoustics and all that.

A breeze tugs at my shirt as I station myself in the dip in the ground. The hill behind me keeps the morning sun off my back as I clench my fists and inhale.

"I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine!"

There's nothing to worry about.

"I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine!"

The slips with my name are just a few among many.

"I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine!"

All I have to do is stand in the crowd for a while!

"I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine!"

I've got this!

I keep it up for a while longer before my throat is sufficiently sore. It's still some time before the reaping, I think, but there's nothing wrong with signing in early. Time to take on the reaping and win!


I fold my arms as the escort—I still don't know anything more than his nickname—approaches the bowl of boys' names. It's pretty full this year. Most of its contents not my name. So, logically speaking, I shouldn't expect to be reaped.

I still can't help but shiver when his hand rustles the slips. The audience is so quiet... Quiet enough for me to hear paper moving, from here. The other boys' tension is enough to clench my fists, making my bracelet tight for a moment before it adjusts.

But everything's fine. I'm fine. He's drawing a name, but it won't be—

"Apollo Justice!"

Right, it won't be Apollo Justice...

...

"Wh-whaaaaaat?!"

Hold it! Doesn't he always start with, "I declare District 5's male tribute to be"? I didn't just miss it, did I? He went through the same thing with the female tribute a moment ago, I'm sure of it.

"Mr. Justice? Are you ready?" Frowning, the escort looks straight at me.

I... probably shouldn't have shouted.

I have to remind myself to breathe in. "Y-yes, Your Honor!" My voice is so raspy I clear my throat and yell it harder. The sixteens nearest me cringe back, but that just makes it easier to charge toward the stage.

I—I wasn't prepared for this, but I have to act like it. No one's going to take me seriously if I waver now. I'm going up to that stage with as much presence as I can muster.

The escort watches me step up in front of him and gives me a nod. "Are there any volunteers?"

No. There couldn't be any. No one's stupid enough to expect victory, and I don't have any family or close friends. I'm here to stay.

"In that case, I present your tributes for the Twenty-First Annual Hunger Games!"

Hoping my hair isn't wilting too much, I turn to the other tribute. Now's the part where we shake hands, if I remember correctly. You can't watch many of these before you figure out the routine.

She grips the top of her blue shawl with one gloved hand but offers me her other. I take a deep breath and seize it.

"It was... Trucy, wasn't it?" I murmur as I shake.

She nods, wincing a little until I release her hand. "It's—" she closes her eyes for a moment before smiling at me—"nice to meet you, Polly."

I slouch a bit. "Actually, I go by Apollo."

"Come on, kids." Thick fingers dig into my shoulder as a Peacekeeper smelling of gunpowder steps between us. "Get to your final goodbyes."

There's no reason to drag me, but she does, anyway. A different person takes Trucy to her room, and I'm led to one on the left side of the building.

The Justice Building. Its front steps are where my housemother found me, apparently. It would be cooler if my surname were hereditary, but I'll take it as is.

Seated on the edge of the couch with my fists just over my knees, I stare at the ceiling. I didn't think I'd be coming back to this place under these circumstances. I mean, there was always a chance. I take tessarae every year, just like all the other orphans, and I'm no longer twelve. Those slips do add up, I guess... Add up to this.

I... I'm in an impossible situation. But I can't let it get to me. My only option now is to charge ahead. I'm going to dig in my heels, stand tall, and—and somehow survive. I haven't been in any serious fights, and I don't know any survival skills, but that'll be the same for most of the other tributes.

As far as the competition goes... I mean, I'm not going to murder anybody. I'm not sure that anyone's gotten out of the Games otherwise, but I haven't studied all of the victors. I can't say it's impossible when I don't know all of the facts.

Right. I have a chance. I can handle this. I swear I can handle this...

I still catch my hands shaking when I'm moved to the train.

The escort pulls up the lead, trying to reprimand the crowd into order. At my right side, Trucy waves at the cameras with one hand and tips her bright blue top hat with the other. I probably look like a dull-eyed zombie next to her, so I make an effort to smile at the cameras.

The Capitol must be watching this. I'm not sure how much of each reaping they air because I have better things to do in the morning than watch it myself, but there wouldn't be cameras if no one was tuned in.

Just how many people are watching me...?

W-well, it doesn't matter! I'm going to put on a good face for all of them!

Here comes Justice!


I manage to calm down by dinnertime. I've also managed to tear my throat up badly enough that I'm offered chamomile tea the first time I try to speak.

I sip at the cup until our mentor arrives. She glances at the nameplates before taking her seat at the head of the table, across from the escort and at my right.

"Hello." She smiles at me as a waiter lays her napkin across her lap. "Are you doing all right?"

I swallow before rasping an inhale. "I'm fine."

She covers her mouth. "So I've heard."

Laughing silently, I sense a flash of motion at the door. Trucy. I give her a nod before turning back to our mentor.

"Ms. Maya Fey, right?" I have to wash my throat in tea again before I can continue. "You were in the same Games as Phoenix Wright."

She starts before clapping her hands together. "Yes, that's right! Did... Did you know Nick?" She squints at me.

"No, not personally. I'm... a fan, I guess?" Shoulders hunched, I slick my bangs back until they pop out from under my hand. "I was really young when his Games aired. At the time I honestly just liked his hair. But I've given more thought to it since then, and he really was a great person. Not only did he try to save lives, but he also tried to save people from their own guilt and fear." I rest one wrist on the table. "It must have been great to stay by his side, even for a while."

Her clasped hands pressed back against her necklace, she smiles more. "It was. It really was." She takes a minute before wiping her cheek dry and taking a deep breath.

"That's enough of that for now, though." She rests her hands in her lap as the waiters come around with the dishes. "I'm here to help you now. What about your own Games?"

I eye the little bowl of soup in front of me, wondering why they had to waste a plate with it as well. I don't dare start it until our escort, and then Maya, dip up their own bites.

"Well," says Trucy as I locate the widest spoon, "what about it? We're... going into it, I guess, but we don't know much beyond that." She taps her bottom lip with one finger. "Right, Polly?"

Maya swallows quickly. "Oh! Do your friends call you Polly?"

I thump my fists onto the table. "No, they don't!" I'm not sure if any part of the home has reached a consensus on what to call me, but it isn't that. "I don't do nicknames."

Blinking, Maya draws back. "Okay. Apollo it is."

I let out a breath. "Thanks."

Maya stirs her soup idly as she leans on her other hand. "Are you both going to try to win?"

"Of course." Looking down, I press a finger to my forehead. "It's life or death. I wouldn't want to lose something like that."

Trucy nods, her hands fisted in front of her. "I'll try my hardest, too."

"Okay." After another sip of soup, our mentor nods. "So, what do you want to focus on during training? Is there anything useful you've already mastered?"

I can't think of anything off the bat, and I'm not sure if I can talk much more, anyway. This soup is spicy and warm, though. Maybe it'll help.

"I'm good at performing magic." Trucy bounces in her chair a little.

"Oh, cool!" Maya claps before seeming to will herself to calm down. "Can you show us something?"

"Sure!" She thinks for a moment before pulling something pink and blue from her pocket and unfolding it.

Is that... Are those... panties?

"1, 2, 3!" She points out the numbers before reaching into her, er, prop and pulling out a fork.

"Oh my!" The escort draws back.

Smiling, Trucy thanks Maya for her applause and then waves the utensil at me. "Here you go, Polly!"

"Wh-what?" I pull back a bit.

"Well, it's yours."

Huh?

I glance at my small army of silverware and then at Maya's. Sure enough, I'm missing a fork. Did she even reach over here? She must have, at some point...

Although it's mine, I still pinch the handle between two fingers with trepidation. Trucy turns the fork in her hand to make the transfer easier.

"Don't worry. My magic panties are clean enough to eat out of! In fact..." She reaches in again.

Dropping my fork over the tablecloth, I wave an open hand at her. "There's no need for more of that; I get the point, thanks!"

At first, I'm not sure if she could make out my rasping, but she stops and withdraws her empty hand. "Oh. I just thought you'd want your soup back."

"What?!" I snap my gaze back to my plate—but the little bowl of soup is still there. The amount left is the same, and it's definitely mine.

I squint at Trucy, who sticks her tongue out and bops her hat with one fist.

"Tee hee. Just kidding."

Maya sets her spoon in her empty soup bowl with a clack. "That was great! And how about you, Apollo? Got anything like that?"

Nothing remotely like that. And I don't consider this a bad thing.

"I..." Before I can cough, I go for the last of my tea.

"Well..." Trucy leans forward. "He's really good at being loud!"

The escort taps his spoon against his palm. "Indeed."

Maya leans over the table a bit herself. "Pffft. Except right now."

What are we, eight? You're such a great bunch of allies for a game of murder...

Well. I'm sure it could be worse.