CHAPTER 1

DISCLAIMER: Capcom owns these characters, not me.

A/N: In baseball, in order to maintain consistency over a long period of time, you have to make adjustments; little changes in your footwork at the plate, the angle at which you throw if you're a pitcher, etc.; just little, tiny things to your approach towards the game itself.

However, too big of an adjustment over a short period of time would usually yield poor results, generally in the form of a slump, which is always difficult to recover from, and some players who had promising careers (Dontrelle Willis, Steve Blass, and Chuck Knoblauch are some notable examples, if anyone knows who they are :P) will never break that slump, effectively ending their careers.

I've actually learned something; that doesn't just apply to the game of baseball. It can apply to anything in life.

I'm a romance writer. Period. End of discussion. I don't know whether you're applauding at your computer or what, but it's cool; I've always known that's what I've been, because of my dedication to the most beautiful aspect in life, at least in my personal opinion.

My last story was a bust, so bad to the point I had to delete it; I wasn't enjoying it, and from opinions I gathered, a good number of my readers weren't either. I made too big of an adjustment over too short of time period.

It put me in my own slump; I wanted to try to write a romantic one-shot to pick up my spirits, but I couldn't even pick the characters I wanted to be in it. I looked up a few prompts, and this was the best one I found. This'll be 7-10 chapters, and idk, 11,000 to 16,000 words, in that area. I'm picturing this to turn out to be like one of those smaller books you find in your library in elementary school; I just hope it's not as cheesy :P

Please enjoy, sorry for the long note (I think it was necessary), and Happy Reading Dudes!

-ghostfacekiller39

Miles Edgeworth's fingertips were hovering over his keyboard, trembling with nervousness and fear; his plan was certainly of questionable morales. He looked over the sign-up form for a new e-mail account once more under the guise of checking for any errors he could've made, but he knew he was just stalling for more time. His eyes reached the bottom of the page, and he quickly clicked enter, submitting the sign up form before he could have any second thoughts.

He watched his computer's loading screen and sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling of his apartment, hands over the top of his head as he blew out a sigh. He wasn't doing anything illegal, but still, this was so far out of the norm for him.

I couldn't have concocted a more hair-brained, idiotic scheme...I have no idea why I think this is going to work.

The ringing of digital bells sounded out from his computer monitor, and a message reading Welcome, Lester Wimhodge! popped across the screen. He had felt an anagram would be the most appropriate means of concealing his true identity; he had always been more of an analytical thinker than a creative thinker, anyway. He clicked the link to the inbox of this Lester Wimhodge person he created to find it, albeit unsurprisingly, empty. He got up to make himself a cup of tea; if he thought just making the account was stressful, he knew he wouldn't be able to use it the way he had planned without the comfort of a cup of refreshing tea, the way his father used to make it for the two of them on those lazy Sunday mornings of his youth.

After he had placed the teapot on the stove to boil, he gazed out the window that sit above his sink to see the afternoon sun shining in a light blue summer sky as he waited for the whistle to sound off; It must be around 3 o'clock...that means it's midnight in Germany, so Franziska is surely asleep.

The teapot whistled a high-pitched shriek that broke Edgeworth from his train of thought. He picked it up and poured into his favorite teacup, taking a sip after it filled to test it's worth; he found it a bit soothing to his nerves.

You see, Miles Edgeworth was a lawful man, in case that wasn't obvious; after he returned to his luxurious apartment from his day job at the high prosecutor's office, he often spent his evenings with his pet labrador and constant companion, Pesu, watching either the evening news over a cup of tea, or, whenever possible, and despite him priding himself being a sane and logical human being, re-runs of the Steel Samurai: Warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo. One of his biggest regrets in life was being part of the reason of the series' cancellation, along with its spin-off, the Nickel Samurai.

However, even the most lawful of men could be given what could be called either the equivalent of Atlas' burden or the fulfillment of mankind's desires.

Oh, and what a bittersweet burden it was; the circumstances surrounding his feelings of intimacy were less than what would be considered 'normal' for another man.

After all, Franziska von Karma was still 19 years old, living on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, and, most of all, his adopted little sister.

He walked through his living room and saw Pesu asleep on the floor, dreaming of running. Edgeworth stopped on his path back to his home computer to watch his canine companion kick his legs around in the floor, sound asleep. He smiled to himself and continued on his route back to his destination.

He took a seat at the computer and logged back into his-erm-Lester Wimhodge's-personal e-mail account to send Franziska von Karma an e-mail; he knew she preferred hand-written sentiments, as did he, but there was no other way for Lester Wimhodge to contact her.

He typed her name into the recipient's box, and immediately pushed his fear and doubt into the back of his mind, at least temporarily, and began pondering as to how to 'break the ice' or so they said.

What does she like to talk about...? Right, herself. He took a sip of his tea; with that, he knew exactly what to say.

His fingers began flying over the keys of his keyboard.

Greetings!

My name is Lester Wimhodge; I'm currently studying to become a prosecuting attorney, and I was wondering if The Prodigy herself could offer any advice? It'd be greatly appreciated!

He proofread his e-mail and moved his right index finger over the send key; those thoughts of fear and doubt resurfaced, and he quickly struck the keyboard, sending the message.

With that, he hurriedly got out of his seat and went into the living room to fully enjoy his day off, his deed for the day having been accomplished.