Disclaimer: I don't own the Ace Attorney franchise.
Also, major spoilers for Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney, if you haven't played through that. Be warned.
April 9, 2019
Hope Hospital
To my beloved student, Zak.
Fate's clock is ticking. But not for much longer.
To you I entrust the task of lowering my life's curtain. Come on the 13th, 11:05 PM.
I have done much in my life of which I am not proud. Hopefully, it will all be put right soon. Only four more days.
I will ready a gun with which you will shoot, one shot, square in the forehead. You cannot refuse, and we both know the reason why.
I smile as I reminisce upon the days of yore, when we four would perform together and amaze the audiences. As we did until the accident, after which four became three. As we did until I was diagnosed with cancer and was forced into retirement with but a few more months left to me. I sign my name upon the paper.
Magnifi Gramarye.
April 13, 2019, 23:05
Hope Hospital
He is come. I feign sleep with a fresh IV in my arm, inserted by the doctor in charge. Doctor Hoffman is a good chap; I shall miss him.
The gun lies ready upon my bed table. How bittersweet that the weapons that "killed" my beloved daughter are to participate in this drama, this final bow of mine. Yet it is as it should be.
I hear a slight scrape as the gun is lifted. I can sense his hesitation; my gift of extrasensory perception is still mine. I hear the sharp crack of a gunshot and hear that he turns to leave. I open my eyes a mere slit to watch the clown doll I had arranged to be brought over. As I suspected, there is a hole in its forehead. He never disappoints.
I open my eyes fully. "Zak."
He starts. "Master. I didn't expect you to be awake."
I chuckle. "My boy, surely you did not expect me to sleep through a gunshot."
He shrugs. "I suppose not." He gestures towards the clown doll. "Is this what you wanted me to do?"
"Yes." I pause, then motion for my notebook. "Zak, my diary, if you please."
He obliges, and I quickly scribble down my last will and testament.
"Take this", I say. He looks bewildered. "I give my art to you, Zak."
"What...?" He is disbelieving. For good reason, I suppose.
"It is thanks for playing along with my 'show'." I chuckle once again. "You shot well tonight, Zak. Though I would not have minded dying by your hand."
I can see his brief struggle with himself before he answers. "How could I shoot you? ...You're my mentor."
"Bah!" I exclaim, more of amusement than anything else. "I thought you might say something like that."
Once again, Zak seems to be struggling with himself before he opens his mouth to speak again. "If I went home without shooting anything..." he asks me, slowly, hesitantly, "...what would you have done then?"
"Then, of course, I would have given Valant his chance." It is, after all, only fitting. Though I did hope for Zak to be the one to whom I could pass my secrets. After all, I did give him the earlier time. Yet giving my secrets to Valant would have given me no regrets.
"And if I had shot you in the forehead instead?"
"Then it would be over", I say, ignoring his start at my calmness before the concept of my own death. "If you or Valant were to shoot me in the head... then I to the darkness would go, and my art with me." I pause for a mirthless chuckle. "A fitting end, don't you think?"
"Ah..." The poor man is at a loss for words.
I continue, to soothe him. "Yet this ending, too, gives me no cause for regret." I pause, trying to think of the next words to say, which may very well be my last to him. "I thank you, Zak. And... I am sorry." It is a tiny gesture, and I don't expect it to do much to abolish his sense of guilt, but it is all I have to offer. "I have done much that was wrong in my day."
He looks at me with an unreadable expression and opens his mouth to speak. Then he seemingly changes his mind and closes his mouth. He strides towards the door, takes one last look over his shoulder and disappears.
April 13, 2019, 23:20
Hope Hospital
I am roused from my half-sleep by the footsteps entering my room. The second gun lies prepared on the table.
I hear him lift the gun. I hear the soft click as the gun is cocked.
I wait. And wait. Nothing. He puts the gun back on the table. I sigh. To the outside world, it is a sigh of a man in restless sleep. The boy was a prodigy among magicians, yet he was always afraid to take that final step. And to a performing artist, that is one of the greatest handicaps one can have.
I "awake" once again as Valant turns to leave. "Valant."
Much like Zak before him, Valant appears surprised. "Master?"
"I am sorry, Valant." I fear my voice will abandon me if I drag this out further, so I decide to be blunt. "I am giving my magic to Zak... not you."
"What..." His confident posture almost immediately slouches down. His is the face of a broken man.
"You still lack the draw he has." I convey this final message into my next words. "Please, help him, if you can..."
"Master..." I feel sorry for the boy. Always second best to Zak. In magical talent, in competing for the love of my beloved daughter, and now this. I can almost feel his distress.
"Go now, Valant... I wish to rest." He doesn't spare me a glance before escaping the room. I believe I saw a stray tear.
April 13, 2019, 23:30
Hope Hospital
All is done. My art is secured, and will continue to live on when I do not. It is a comforting thought.
I take the pistol, weigh it in my hand. It is exquisitely balanced, which is naturally a necessity for the nature of the trick it was meant for. And yet it could not save Thalassa.
Thalassa, my darling daughter. I am sorry for what befell upon you. If I could make but one wish, it would be to see your smiling face again.
Steeling my resolve, I lift the gun and let the cool metal rest upon my forehead.
Zak. Valant. I know that what I put you through was wrong. Know that you were my beloved students, and more than that. For our time together, I considered the two of you closer than sons. Continue to live through my art.
I let my finger caress the trigger. Again, it is exquisitely balanced and I know it is under my control. At last, I point it to my forehead. My time has come, I think, the last thoughts of the dying man. One last, convulsive muscular contraction in my finger. A sharp crack. The briefest of brief flashes of white-hot pain. And then, nothingness.
Then I to the darkness will go.
Author's note:
I don't know where this came from. I just felt like chronicling Magnifi Gramarye's final time from his point of view. And also to try to establish him as a more human character. It is my belief that deep down, Magnifi did love both his students, and I'm sure he saw them as his own sons.
Also, random Trauma Center references, because heck yes. ^^
Anyways, review if you like. ^^ Constructive criticism would be appreciated.