A/N: I dug this and another PW fic out of their grave, I mean, another website I was on. They're ancient, and OOC-ness is to be expected.

Disclaimer: Wait, I don't own it? Aww...

July 17, 2007

von Karma Mansion

Miles trailed into the von Karma mansion's dining room to find his little sister already eating her breakfast: a bowl of cereal. Miles' adopted father and mentor, Manfred von Karma, had left Germany to prosecute another trial in America, leaving young Miles in charge of the house...and Franziska, the eight-year-old "prodigy", as everyone calls her. Ever since Miles started living with von Karmas, Manfred would leave on buisness, leaving him in charge of the girl. However, it seemed more like it was Franziska that was in charge of him.

"Little Brother," Franziska glared at him, a grin on her face, "It's such a foolishly late time to be getting out of your foolish bed, don't you agree?"

Out of all the things she's inherited from her father... Miles thought, Why does that grin have to be one of them?

"It's only Eight," Miles replied, and QUIT calling me Little Brother! I'm seven years older than you, you know..."

Franziska didn't have to say anything for rebuttal. Her whip did the talking for her. Hurting a little from the whip, Miles quickly walked past her into the kitchen, where he started to make a bowl of cereal for himself.

"What time did you get up, anyway, Franzy?" Miles asked, pouring the small grains of cereal into a bowl.

"Five thirty. On the dot. And DON'T go calling me Franzy!" She stood up from her chair and began to walk up to Miles, her whip in her hand.

"You call me Little Brother! I should get to call you Franzy!"

Miles was pouring milk in his cereal when he was suddenly whipped again. The milk jug flew out of his hand and spilled all over the floor, himself, and very unfortunately, Franziska.

"You...you...!" Franziska was really pissed off now. Miles winced in pain as he was hit multiple times with Franziska's whip.

"Aggh!" Miles yelled, "FRANZISKA! STOP FOR A MOMENT!"

"What?" She asked very crossly.

"Look. Fighting's not going to solve anything. The floor's a mess. If you slip and fall, you're going to get more milk on your skirt. Now, go get yourself cleaned up."

"Fine!" Franziska whipped Miles one more time and ran out of the kitchen.
Miles sighed and started to mop the floor. When he had finished, he went back to his room to read some law books that Manfred had suggested for him. Right as he started reading, Franziska had looked inside the room and noticed Miles reading.

"LITTLE BROTHER!" Franziska yelled.

"There you go again," Miles said, "Calling me Little Brother..."

If Franziska heard him say that, she had ignored it, continuing, "You KNOW that the books aren't supposed to leave the library!"

Of course he knew. He knew it very well. He just flat-out didn't care. Seriously, They're BOOKS. Back when Gregory Edgeworth, Miles' father, had been alive, you would books all over his old house. Miles let his mind wander over the time when his father was still alive, and his friends, Phoenix and Larry. He wondered if he'll ever see either of them again. Well, maybe not Larry, Miles thought, He got too annoying. I'd be fine with not seeing him again.

He had been so deep in thought that he didn't notice Franziska lecturing him about perfection.
"...Von Karma household-MILES EDGEWORTH! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

"What if I said no?"

"Then I'd whip you."

"Then...Yes, I have."

"Fool!" Miles was whipped. Again. Wincing in pain, He looked up at Franziska, throughly sick and tired of being whipped all the time. The young man finally managed to quickly snag the whip.

"GIVE THAT BACK, you foolish fool! I don't even want to know what your foolish ideas for foolishly using my whip may be!"

"I Will... If you don't tell your father these books were up here when he returns," Miles replied.

"Why would I agree to something as foolish as that?"

"...Because I have your whip."

"I don't need my whip, Fool!" Fransiska turned and stormed out of the room. Miles sighed and resumed his reading, a book about past cases. It was pretty hard for him to read, seeing as he still wasn't able to comprehend some of the German words.

He was trying to remind himself what the word "Urteilsspruch" meant when there suddenly was a sharp sensation of pain on his arm. When he looked up from his book, there was Franziska, not with a whip, but there was a jumprope in her hand.
"Give. Me. Back. My. Whip."
This is going to be a long day...

A/N: If I remember correctly, Urteilsspruch means verdict. Correct me if I'm wrong.