A/N Late. Again. I was going to drop it, but then two people convinced me not to, and I'd like to give shoutouts to them.

xStormyx, who threatened to cut my head off and serve it on a platter should I drop it. (Or something like that, but it amounts to the same thing.)

kaRINtou-kun, who offered to draw fanart for this. It was because of her that I hesitated to delete it, and therefore gave xStormyx time to convince me otherwise.

And last but not least, thanks to all the reviewers who have supported me through the story.

EDIT: Thanks, Stefan-sama, for pointing out there were no divides. I did add them in, but fanfiction must have deleted them. And... the previous chapters' divides were deleted too. So I'll go change it now.

Chapter Six: Plans, Plural

Apollo simply couldn't miss the way Trucy's eyes darted between Klavier Gavin and Ema Skye, the young magician's lips curved into a slight smile that didn't completely show happiness, but indicated amusement. He knew what was going through Trucy's mind, and a small indication of what her plan would be concerning.

The thing was, that Trucy missed the bowl of Snackoos just to the left of the prosecutor.

It would have been humorous—except now that Apollo had confirmed the existence of a plan as well as the subjects concerned, he remembered how ruthless Trucy really was when executing such a plan.

And dramatic as it may sound, it was not an exaggeration.

But Apollo quickly drove the flashbacks out of his mind—now was the time for action, or, more specifically, Trucy's inaction.

"Trucy—" Apollo began.

"Shush, Polly!" Trucy said, turning to him. "I already know what you're about to say."

"But—"

"This is all for the greater good," Trucy intoned ominously.

Apollo took a moment to recover from the magician's cringe-worthy statement, and tried again. But before he could even begin to speak, a voice came from behind him.

"So, you're Wright's apprentice?"

Interrupted.

The red-clad attorney turned to see Miles Edgeworth in the flesh. " 'Apprentice'?" he echoed. "Not at all. I just happened… to run into him a few times."

"Defending, if I am not wrong?"

"Mr Edgeworth!"

It was one of the subjects of Trucy's operation, a detective that Apollo bumped into at least as many times as Klavier Gavin.

"…Ema. Your sister told me to tell you to expect her a few days from now."

"Really? When did she tell you that?"

"She was stopping by Germany, and looked me up at the von Karma mansion."

"Oh, you were staying there? But I tried calling you…"

Apollo left Ema and the prosecutor to their conversation and took the opportunity to turn to Trucy once more.

"Listen, Polly, why don't I explain it to you first?"

The red-clad attorney sighed. "Because there's nothing to explain."

But before he could begin his interrogation, Trucy, unheeding as always, began to speak and draw him away from the crowd. "What I'm trying to do is not direct intervention."

Sure. Like you haven't been cooking up plans to get the two of them together.

"What I am doing is making magic."

Oh, great. She was, quite obviously, intervening directly.

"The number of encounters between two people contributes much to the amount of feelings, you see."

"No, I don't."

She heaved a sigh at the man's ignorance. "Sure, there are exceptions, family, mere co-workers, good friends, but this is different."

"Hm, I think I'd go with co-workers for Prosecutor Gavin and Ema. Reluctant co-workers, on Ema's part."

"It's different, Apollo! Don't you see?"

And again, the man replied, "No, I don't."

"Hate, that's the key."

Apollo, very deliberately, kept his silence.

"Hate can turn to love, very easily, because hate could be a deep mask of love!"

"Could be."

"Yup."

"No, I was quoting you. 'Could be a deep mask of love'."

"Oh, I get you. But there's a simple test to test it out."

"And what is that?"

"Increase the number of encounters! Then, there are three options. One, hate digs a deeper ditch for itself. Two, hate turns to friendship as she gets to know and maybe understand him, then to love. Three, hate is stripped away to reveal love. Two of the possibilities end at love, so it's best to try."

"I've long learnt that questioning your logic never works."

"That's because my logic is airtight."

Let's see, what's so airtight about ignoring the thousands of other possibilities that could occur? To list one more: Four, nothing happens. The most probable option. And doesn't she know that Ema already sees Prosecutor Gavin almost every day?

Apollo could have voiced all of these points out, and a million more rebuttals, but Trucy would never have listened. But before he could think of another course of attack, she had already bounded off.

…It was possible no damage would be done.

But Apollo had seen one too many subjects under Trucy's so-called plans, and he wasn't about to stand by as she took a leaf from Mr Wright's book.

But what could possibly stop her?

Archer Lerano slowly drifted from Klavier's side, becoming only a pair of eyes that watched the party intensely. The cracks of a whip, the blazes of pink, the ranting of lost girlfriends, the noise of the Steel Samurai that was playing on the television, the cries of 'Mystic Maya'—all lost, as Ace's five senses focused on two individuals in the room.

One was a close friend and a fellow band member.

The other was a woman he half-knew, from brief encounters and endless talk.

A smirk unfolded itself across his face, and for a moment, his expression matched that of Klavier's at the exact same moment.

"Fräulein Detective, Prosecutor Edgeworth, may I cut in?"

"Cut in? This isn't some kind of dance, Gavin," Ema said irritably, refusing to even spare a glance at the rock star.

"Gavin? Klavier Gavin?"

"Ja."

To Ema's chagrin, her idol actually took the fop's hand and shook it. "I've heard about you."

"And you are still a legend at the office, Herr Edgeworth."

With a smile on his face, Klavier proceeded to engage with Edgeworth in a conversation that mostly consisted of a barrage of German and amused looks at Ema's flabbergasted and suspicious face.

"Mein liebe."

It took Ema a moment to realize that Gavin was addressing her in German, and that Edgeworth had already left to sit at the couch with Maya Fey. "What does that even mean?" She had long dropped the pretense of understanding German.

"Maybe you should find out, liebling," Klavier said with an easy smile.

Ah, shameless flirting, the hidden observer thought to himself.

"…Do I want to find out?"

"Hm," he replied ambiguously.

Ema was sure the prosecutor was about to flirt once more as a wicked expression overtook his face, and his mouth opened eagerly, but then her savior came in the form of one Phoenix Wright.

"Hi, Ema, Gavin."

All at once, Klavier's expression, posture, aura changed. Ema could just tell his teeth clenched together, myriad emotions flitting across his face, and his stance shifted so very slightly. Klavier, she realized, was all too practiced at hiding his emotions—but in this instance, they had managed to leak out just slightly.

He didn't forge the evidence! She wished to correct him then and there.

But then, Ema knew that the prosecutor was more confused and self-denying than hostile. His brother, who had reputedly tipped him off on the forgery, had been just sent to prison for murder. The brother he had once looked up to, never questioned, sought to be likened to, had been condemned in a blaze of truth and justice. Perhaps Klavier had tried to ignore this piece of evidence, but Ema didn't know what the outcome was, and was certainly, she admitted, no judge of his newly formed views (because Ema also admitted that the rock star wouldn't shirk from the facts) or emotions.

"Herr Wright," Klavier greeted, and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, animosity thick in the air.

Ema let out a grin that was only half-forced to cut through the tension and said, "Hi, Mr Wright!"

What Phoenix thought of Klavier, Ema didn't know either, but she was sure his natural charity would shine over his bitterness at losing his attorney's badge (however painful it was). But the former attorney had to be careful around the prosecutor, anyway.

"Prosecutor Gavin," the dark-haired man began. "I have to inform you of something."

Klavier raised his eyebrows. "Ja?"

"You're going to be privy to some details on the upcoming Jurist System… Actually, you'll be taking part in the test trial."

"A test trial? When is it?"

"Don't worry, it's quite a while away… Just thought I should tell you."

"Has a case been decided on?"

"No, not yet."

"And an attorney?"

"…Not as of late. Not… confirmed, at least, but I think you'll know at least one of the candidates."

"And… how are you involved in this?"

A pause as Phoenix scanned the other man's face with those searching eyes.

"I'm part of the organizing committee, you could say."

And with that, he left.

Klavier stood there, staring after the man, his face uncharacteristically void of emotion. Whatever thoughts ran through his mind couldn't be discerned from his body language or the distant look in his eyes. A mask.

After a few moments, Ema grew worried, especially since the whip cracking didn't wake him from his stupor.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

Well, the prosecutor did twitch.

KA-TONK!

No response.

"Gavin?"

Nothing.

"Fop?"

Not a twitch.

It seemed as though munching was the most effective option, but when nothing more than a slight movement was achieved (though by this time, Ema was growing suspicious as well), the detective decided that sticking to munching wasn't, in fact, the best option, contrary to popular opinion (meaning her Snackoo obsessed persona's opinion).

"…Klavier?"

Signs of life!

"Klavier!"

A couple of blinks, then the prosecutor broke from his reverie. "A test trial…" He frowned.

"What's wrong with the Jurist System?"

Klavier turned to her. "Nothing, it is a good thing. I am just wondering what kind of case Phoenix Wright will pick."

"…Does this mean I'll be the detective in charge of the case as well?" Ema realized her mistake too late, and wished she could take back her words.

"Why would you assume that, fräulein?"

Ah, well. Nothing to do but to forge ahead. "You know… because I somehow end up being assigned to the cases you take."

"A strange phenomenon, ja?"

"Yes, it certainly can't be coincidental," Ema said suspiciously, planning at once to confront him about it.

But he turned the tables on her instead. "I did not know you paid so much attention to my work schedule, fräulein!"

It took a moment for Ema to fully grasp the insinuations, because his blinding grin (blinding with idiocy, she told herself) was a bit too much for her to handle. "Arrogance!" she spluttered, and took to stuffing her face with Snackoos.

"Ah, I see it now."

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"It is not, what some call, 'stress eating'. You eat when you are embarrassed."

"I eat when I'm annoyed! And besides, who wouldn't be embarrassed in your company!" The latter sentence slipped out of her mouth with no conscious thought on her part and she regretted it instantly, ceasing the Snackoo chewing. "Sorry."

Klavier gave a mock expression of the utmost surprise. "Fräulein Detective? Apologizing? I simply must make a note of this."

The prosecutor rarely used sarcasm in this manner, and though it was nearly as biting as it could be, Ema was startled nonetheless. But, she thought, she had deserved it.

"Hey, Klavier." A figure approached the two. "Hello, Ema Skye." Lerano gave her an odd look.

"…Ja?"

"I gotta go now. I'm meeting with Mark. Catch you later," he said, departing with a wave of his hand.

He jogged out of the room, and as soon as he shut the door, Ace let a smirk overtake his face once again. It was just possible, just possible for him to get away with this idea of his—with help.

Reaching the precinct with a bright yellow Porsche in tow, he immediately spotted the person he wished to see.

A figure, the tallest of the Gavinners, draped in a long black cape, looking for all the world like a vampire from a book of ancient lore. His casual elegance, poised stance, and upturned face cast him as the 'tall dark stranger'. The man slowly turned his head in Ace's direction, letting a languid smile spread across his face with ease, and beckoned to him, black spiked hair ruffling gently in the wind.

"Cut it out."

"Cut… it out? I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about. But while we are on the subject, on what grounds did you call me here? By faith, or by flame, by wind, or by rock? I so ask of you—"

"Enough." Ace rolled his eyes, though his long, red bangs obscured them from view.

"Then cease beating around the bush, and plunge the sword by a point to your foresworn target!"

If anyone were to be accused, Ace thought to himself, of long-windedness, it would not be me. "I told you already. Like… a plan. Help me out with it."

"What plan be this?"

"You have already been informed, errant knight," he teased.

"Errant? By no means am I wayward, unruly, defiant, or, indeed, errant."

"Then don't toy with me, and we'll proceed."

A dramatic sigh came from Mark. "I know of the subjects and the objectives of your plan. But I know not the means."

"You know, sometimes I'm thankful that you, at least, don't use 'thou', and say 'shalt' sparingly, but…"

Mark glared at him impatiently, momentarily breaking through his coolly mysterious image.

Ace let a brief chuckle escape him, then proceeded, "It's simple enough. I've sung enough songs, seen enough films about love. We all would like a fairytale ending. We all would wish for a desired couple, a long-standing duo to come together as more than just friends. They see each other every day, one flirting with everything he's got—" Here, there were twin peals of mirth. "—and the other detesting him with all her guts. There has been enough interaction between the two, and I'm not exactly one to stand idly by. (Nor, I might add, are you, especially when drama is to play out by your hand.)"

"Yes, that is the objective; but pray tell the means."

"I have deliberated on this for a while, and decided that increasing the potency of these encounters will be the most apt means. Awkward situations, you know."

"Clichéd, I have to say, but for a cheese like Klavier, it just might work. But what of the dear 'Fräulein Detective', as we so hear her called?"

"Easily embarrassed, and that is easily exploited." He laughed easily, remembering the blush that had spread over Ema's fair complexion.

"Polly!"

"…Trucy, I've thought about this 'plan' for a while, and you can't—" Trucy wouldn't listen, he was sure, but there was nothing to do but try.

"Hold up for a second! You know you can't persuade me either way, but I've decided to let you in on a few more details—since you're so skeptical, you know."

"Alright, let's hear it," Apollo said cautiously, wondering how he could use it to his advantage, and knowing that Trucy was telling him not to convince him, but because she was dying to share her so-called unappreciated genius with someone.

"Increasing the number of encounters won't simply do the trick. Ema and Mr Gavin meet together all the time—nope, the second part to this is to get them alone."

"Those two? In the same room? Alone? Together? I've never been to Gavin's office after the two of them have had a meeting, but I'm pretty sure…" An image of a wrecked office with papers strewn around and Snackoos patterned across the floor passed through Apollo's mind.

"Don't worry, Polly, I'm sure that doesn't happen!"

"Trucy—"

"Mr Gavin's her boss, after all!"

"That never stopped her, I'm sure," Apollo muttered.

An odd look came over Trucy's face as she contemplated something. "I think it's time to start. This plan might take a while, after all, so it's time to get them alone in this party." She paused. "Polly?"

But the defense attorney had gone.

Trucy shrugged to herself. "Never mind him," she murmured to herself. "So long as he doesn't interfere… Hi, Mr Gavin!"

"Fräulein." He nodded at her, directing a sunny smile in her direction. "I must thank you for your invitation."

"No problem! Um… could you help me with something?"

"Of course."

Trucy clutched the opportunity quickly. "Then… I left some magic equipment in the other room, but I've got to set up here, so could you get them for me? A finger-cutter and a huge wooden stick. Oh, and a red silk scarf. Sorry for the trouble!" She bumped her fist against her hat, giving a cutely apologetic look.

"It is no trouble at all, fräulein magician. I will only be too happy to help."

One suave smile later, and Klavier had disappeared into the confines of the storeroom. Trucy deliberated for a second—then she sought out Ema. "Hey, Ema! Polly says he left some chords in the room over there. Could you go get it for him?"

"What? Chords?" Ema turned to look at her, a distracted Apollo beside her.

"Yeah, you know, chords of steel! Right, Polly?"

"Huh? Huh? Oh… yeah. Thanks a bunch, Ema…" Apollo confirmed, not at all sure what Trucy had just asked him, preoccupied by the grape juice he had spilled all over his red vest.

"He's too scared of the monster to go in," Trucy confided in low tones. "And so am I."

The detective gave her an odd look. "…Sure, I guess…"

"That…" Trucy proclaimed. "…was too easy."

Apollo sighed impatiently, and resorted to removing his vest entirely, wearing only his white cotton shirt. "What are you up to now, Trucy? What was too easy? Where's Ema? What did I just agree to?"

But like the infuriating little girl she was, Trucy simply gave a mysterious smile, and then proceeded to double over in a fit of giggles. After a moment, she straightened up, and pointed towards the door in the far end of the room. "Lock!"

There was, amazingly, a noticeable click.

There was also a click within Apollo's head. "Ah… I see. I'm assuming you told Prosecutor Gavin you left something in the room."

Trucy nodded, her eyes on the door.

"Still, it's too obvious. They'll exchange notes (metaphorically, of course), and it'll be too obvious that you're behind all of this. And that'll ruin your plan." He smiled at the notion.

"Silly Polly. It would be obvious anyway, even if I stole something of theirs and left it there," she said, in a tone that suggested the idea was very, very appealing. "So there's no point trying to hide it. So what if they know what I'm trying to do? I have, after all, a contingency plan. Every magician does!" She paused. "Any magician worth knowing, that is, and I, of course, fall right smack into the category."

He heard a 'click' behind him as he fished out a long red cloth from a dusty chest, and turned to see the fräulein detective looking around the room. Upon catching sight of him in a dark corner, the corners of her mouth turned down and she looked away. Then the pair of them whipped their heads around as yet another click echoed through the room.

"…It is locked," Klavier said, as Ema rushed to the door and jiggled the knob vigorously. "And I suppose you are here because the young fräulein magician 'forgot' something?"

"Not really, no," she spat. "But it was a poor excuse all the same, not much different from what she must've told you."

The chances of getting out without outside help were slim, and Klavier had seemed to have misplaced his mobile phone. Ace probably took it. The fellow band member had a habit of nicking his things when it suited them—not, the prosecutor reflected, the most suitable hobby for a defense attorney, even if he does not do it for malicious purposes. "Your phone, fräulein?"

Ema was already rummaging in her bag. "…Not here… Trucy must have taken it." She strode to the door and hammered on it with her fist. "OI!"

The noise passed through the old, cheap door, and into the noisy living room. Trucy, who was within a five-meter radius heard it. "…What was that?" Phoenix asked, scrunching up his eyebrows.

"Oh… that? Nothing… Just Mr Hat! I've been trying out a few new tricks—" Trucy began.

"Klavier and Ema… Where are they?"

"Tee hee!"

"Well… do what you like, then…"

"Mr Wright!" Apollo said, appalled. "How can you… Oh wait. Right." The attorney then recalled that this was Phoenix Wright he was talking about, and Trucy's dad. He was the sort of dad that might reproach her for stealing alcohol because she was too young to drink.

Subsequent cries of "Help!" or something to that effect were drowned either by the loud, purposeful bangs of Trucy's magic tricks or the cracking of Franziska's whip.

"…No use…" Ema muttered to herself, hearing the deafening noise outside of the room. This… is stupid. It seems so clumsily orchestrated. And yet… Trucy seems the type to know what she's doing when it comes to plans. But still, such a clichéd situation? She is a teenage girl, I suppose.

Klavier simply laid back, his fingers interlocked behind his head, and rested his back against the jumble of boxes. "Well, fräulein, it looks as though we will be stuck here for a while…"

"Someone! Mr Wright!"

"I am sure the fräulein magician would be holding a very noisy display of magic…"

"Apollo? Trucy!"

"She will let us out in due time, I am sure…"

"Mr Edgeworth! Miss von Karma!"

"Ah, Herr Edgeworth. You are acquainted with him, ja?"

"Larry Butz! Pearl Fey! Maya Fey!"

Her voice was unheard through the booms and cheers of Trucy's performance, the blaring noise of the Steel Samurai, and the yelps of pain at a certain whip, but three people knew exactly who was trapped in the room. Trucy and her father, of course. And Apollo.

Apollo was, at this moment, wondering what he should do. It was obvious that he should barge into the room and release the trapped Ema and Klavier, but his path was blocked by a rather off-putting whip.

And Ema, who would have given anything to get Apollo to get them out, was giving up hope. Well, it wasn't as if… Well, things could be worse. There might be two Klaviers in the room. Ema cringed at the very thought, imagining the two comparing their hair, and who knows what else.

And Klavier, who was smiling to himself, reflected that Trucy was either a very smart girl, or happened to have very good luck. This ridiculous plan relied far too much on chance, and far too much on naïve flights of fancy, but then, if she had observed Ema's habit of flushing a pleasant red, it had been a calculated bet. The fact that the detective could be flustered so easily was certainly a point that was very much in Trucy's favor, in a plan such as this. He opened his mouth to utter (quite daringly) a very dirty innuendo, but then Ema shot him a Look that was probably meant to address the sly, mischievous look that he must have been wearing, so he opted to try a different tack.

Klavier was very skilled in many ways, one of which was the oratorical front. You had to be a good speaker to be the genius prosecutor. This oratorical aspect included a more… unusual trait that the rock star possessed, and that was the gift of silence. Conspicuous silence.

"…"

Ema couldn't help but notice.

"…"

So she ate to fill the silence. MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.

And yet, it was ever present. A quiet, a hush pressing down upon her, like some suffocating presence. "…"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.

"…"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"…"

"I wonder… what Trucy is planning," Ema mused, simply to break the unbearable silence.

Klavier smiled. "She is a teenage girl, ja? It should not be hard to guess."

"Tch. Annoying."

It will not work—unless I take advantage of this… "Let us humor her, ja?"

The woman was back to ignoring him, and rattled the doorknob. "Apollo! Anyone!"

And her cry was heard, of course, by Apollo, who was listening closely. Then he eyed the whip.

"It will not work, fräulein detective," the prosecutor said, though he was sure Herr Forehead would have come by now—the attorney surely was not supportive of this intervention, and her shout could be heard by someone who was listening carefully. The only question was—why did he not come? There had to be something holding the spiky-haired man up, and if Klavier listened carefully, he could tell that the whip lashing was occurring right outside the door. But was it his imagination, or was the cracking of the whip slowly beginning to fade?

So perhaps Apollo Justice would, er, rescue them from the rather stuffy room. And Klavier could work a little magic of his own.

Ema was back to jiggling the doorknob.

"Nein, fräulein, that is not the way to do it."

"Then what is, Prosecutor Gavin?" she hissed, without turning around.

Klavier strode forward, and leaned over her back, hesitating for just a moment before he leaned down completely and took her hand in his. With his mouth just beside her ear, his face so close to hers, he could almost feel the heat from her flush radiating off her. "Like this," he instructed, clutching her hand and turning it with his, and yes—as his sharp ears had detected, a click sounded as Apollo turned the key in the lock.

So Klavier twisted his wrist—and fell forward with their combined weights pulling them face-flat onto the ground.

"Ach!" the prosecutor exclaimed, as his head landed heavily on Ema's back, then joked, "I hope you have not ruined my face, fräulein detective."

It was small comfort that the crowd was too distracted with Trucy's show to have heard the muffled thump as they landed on the dusty carpet, Ema thought, because the impact of her head of the ground must have had some adverse effect on her, causing all her blood to rush to her face at breakneck speed. "I couldn't care less about your precious mug, Gavin," she said, annoyed. "What I do care about, though, is you getting the hell off of me."

He obediently rolled off, then lazily got to his feet. "Your face, however, is… tomato red."

"No, it's not," Ema said firmly, scrambling up.

He made no comment, but caught her by the chin and looked straight into her acid eyes. This would have caused another flush, had Ema not already exhausted her blood supply. "What. Do. You. Want."

"No blush? I beg to differ…"

Her eyes widened as a smile spread across his satisfied face.

And then Ema realized Apollo, who was standing beside them, was blushing as much as she was. And realized how this would look.

"Ugh… You glimmerous fop!" But before she could even begin to push him away, Klavier had already let go of her chin, and turned towards Apollo.

"Thanks for letting us out, Herr Forehead," he said with an easy grin. "I trust it was Trucy that trapped us?"

"Well—"

"Polly! What are you doing over here? Come join the show!"

The interruption was as good as a confession. Apollo glanced back helplessly as the girl dragged him over.

"Hey, Pearly…"

"Yes, Mystic Maya?"

"That's Klavier Gavin!"

"Um…" Pearl pondered, biting her thumb. "…Ah! I… think I've heard of him."

"You ought to go out more, Pearly. You're already a teen, after all!"

"I still have to train at Kurain before I can go out to the city properly."

"Aw, you're already a proper spirit medium! You should come out with me some time—then you could see the 'Apollo' and 'Trucy' Nick always talks about… and you'd know about Klavier Gavin."

"I do know him, Mystic Maya. He's the prosecutor that got Mr Nick disbarred."

"Hm…" Maya turned her eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm not sure what I think about that," she said slowly. "It's not an easy thing to forgive, but somehow, I think he was tricked. Like how Nick was tricked."

"Both of them… were fooled?"

"Yeah. I don't think he's the bad guy, Pearly. You can see it, can't you?"

Pearl squinted slightly, and tilted her head a little to the side, her eyes faraway and misted over. "…Yes, Mystic Maya. Maybe."

"Anyway, that's the Klavier Gavin! Prosecutor or not, he's the lead singer of the Gavinners!"

"And who's that person beside him? She looks kinda like you, Mystic Maya."

"Oh! That's Ema Skye. Which brings me to my next point."

"Is she his special someone?" asked Pearl obediently. Despite her age, living in an enclosed world such as Kurain had made her fall back on those old tales of valor and love, and she believed in classic storybook endings. She still didn't go out much, though she was quite old enough.

"Spot on! That's what I want. That's what we want. Right, Pearly?"

The brown-haired girl nodded her head gleefully, bouncing on her heels. "Right after you and Mr Nick!" she said cheerfully. She still hadn't dropped the 'Mr Nick' habit to simply 'Mr Wright'.

"You're still going on about that, huh… Well, anyway, let's just focus on Klavier Gavin and Ema Skye."

Maya was a watchful person, and was more mature than people took her for. True, she was in her 20s now, but her exuberant nature had led people to believe she hadn't yet grown out of her childhood. This 'match-making'… was not borne of her mature side, but of the childlike, fairytale mentality she had borrowed from Pearl. Well, that and the scene of Klavier landed on top of Ema, and tipping her chin up was simply too cute to resist.

Many would agree that Maya Fey spent too much time reading cheap Harlequin novels. Watching Steel Samurai and Pink Princess videos obsessively didn't help either.

"But Mystic Maya… we know nothing about them! How are we supposed to get them together?"

"Know nothing? Heh, just wait and see, Pearly."

There was, after all, a little something (though admittedly a bit on the shady sides of the law, but there was nothing like a bit of good, not-so-clean fun) called stalking.

"I demand a competition, Miles Edgeworth! One to determine who is truly the perfect one."

Franziska had no doubts she was the perfect one, but that stupid Miles had mocked her with a snide jibe, and she was not about let him get away with it. So she had whipped him, but the moment the pain fled, another smirk had spread over his face.

"The perfect one? I never knew you were so insecure, Franziska," he sighed, shaking his head with a touch of his hand.

"Fool!" she cried, and whipped him. "I am, quite obviously, the superior one, but you do not seem to know that. My record in court will be enough to prove it, my win record, so perhaps you doubt me in other areas."

"Your social etiquette could be put into question," he muttered. "One does not whip one's older brother, or speak so brusquely without reason."

"Without reason? You mock me, little brother." She held the whip over her head threateningly. "I accept your challenge!"

"Challenge? W-what challenge?" he questioned, taking a step back as her whip cracked into the air.

"Social etiquette? My mastery of the human psychology is nothing less than perfection. But how shall I prove it… Ah! That is Ema Skye, no? She detests Klavier Gavin, had a schoolgirl crush on you (and you have to be as different from that Gavin as anyone could be, from what I have heard of him), and it would be nigh impossible to, say, 'hook them up'."

"Oh no…" Edgeworth knew Franziska had a habit of building everything up, and when all else failed, come up with a ludicrous competition built on a ridiculous notion.

"Well, Miles Edgeworth?" she inquired pompously, extending her arm and fanning out her fingers in a challenging gesture.

"Franziska…"

"Silence, fool!" she snapped, and held her whip up with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"W-well…" Edgeworth said hurriedly, eyeing the whip. He supposed it would be best if he actually knew her plans—then he could hopefully put a stop to them if they got too… meddling. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Then the game is on! I expect to see a plan up to standard, Miles Edgeworth—don't you dare try to go easy on me!"

"You expect me to come up with a plan too?"

"Of course! How else could we compete?"

"A-ah, I see. Well then, I can assure you that you will not be disappointed."

But inside, Edgeworth thought, things just got a lot more complicated.

Ema stepped aside as something crashed down from above, then raised her eyebrows as she turned back. "Gavin… Have you not realized it yet?"

Klavier had plunged into the path of the object, planning to push Ema aside from the falling hazard. "Ach. Force of habit." He rubbed his head a little. "I know they would never try to harm either of us."

Which was why the object was a Styrofoam box. Klavier quickly stood up.

"And I am not some damsel in distress. Even if what they threw down were heavy, it would never get the chance to hit me. Hear that, Trucy? You're welcome to try! Count yourself lucky we're not suing you!"

Suddenly, she flicked her hand towards the surprised prosecutor. Klavier turned back, alarmed, and noticed yet another Styrofoam box clattering to the ground behind him.

"It was going to fall on you," Ema explained. "So I pushed it out of the way."

"…I do not think it is the fräulein magician who is doing this."

"Huh? But it has to be!"

"True, the plans are clumsily orchestrated, but that just means someone is toying with us and having a lot of fun."

Something about the way he said it made her suspicious. "And… you know who it is?"

"…Maybe. I cannot be sure. But Herr Forehead is investigating the crime scene, and Trucy Wright is sure to be with him. She is not allowed in that part of the Prosecutors' Office, in any case." He looked thoughtful.

Then Klavier turned his eyes towards the sky, and said, "I do not think they are there any longer, whoever the perpetrators were."

Does he mean that there were more than two people? Ema thought.

"Fräulein detective," he said out of the corner of his mouth. "I believe… there is someone behind us."

"I take it you mean 'following', and not just randomly walking behind us, right?"

"Ja, of course," Klavier said, giving a smirk at what he probably thought was her silliness. "Or 'stalking'. They… have been doing it for some time."

" 'They'? Who?" Ema said.

The prosecutor made an impatient motion with his hand, biding her to keep her voice down. "Maya and Pearl Fey."

"What?"

"Quiet!" he asserted softly. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

A/N …The end, for this chapter. I think I'll need two more to wrap this whole thing up.