Follow the Fool (Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney Fanfic)

Chapter 3

 Light. It was light outside... surprisingly and irritatingly bright. Franziska von Karma's eyes slowly slid open—and then closed tightly against the painful glare that she knew logically was merely the gentle mid-morning sunlight filtering through her curtains but felt so much harsher and...

Her eyes opened wide suddenly. Mid-morning?! Franziska practically jumped out of her bed, her still half-asleep brain scrambling to wake up and match her pace (dimly recognizing that she was in her normal, everyday outfit and had likely fallen asleep in such). She was never late to work. Ever since she had passed the bar at the ludicrously young age of 13, the only times she had ever been late or missed work entirely had been when she'd been shot in the shoulder, and... well, that was that. To oversleep like this, no matter how tired she'd been, was absolutely unacceptable.

It wasn't until she was frantically slipping her stocking-clad feet into her boots that her mind finally caught up with her, and with an embarrassed pause she remembered that it was, in fact, Saturday. Though she normally would work all weekend if she'd taken a case, the young prosecutor had no tasks on her plate—for the moment, anyway. Franziska still mentally harangued herself for sleeping so late; even if she had had no responsibilities, it was still inexcusable to be so... sloppy.

This is wrong. This is... I can't... what's wrong with me? Franziska sat on the edge of her comfortable queen-sized bed, eyes closed in concentration. Sloppy. She was being sloppy and careless, and this was not like her—it should not be like her. If her father were watching her... she could almost hear his voice, deep and so maddeningly calm that she would almost beg to be disciplined—but knew that if she broke down and gave in to his psychological warfare that it would only be worse for her. His gaze, disapproving no matter what she did, almost daring her to succeed—which she pushed herself to the point of exhaustion to do.

Her father had been a genius, of that there was no question. He had consigned his younger daughter and his practically-adopted son to the flames in hoping of forging a worthy successor... but Manfred von Karma's true brilliance could not be taught. One could not learn his clever insights, the way he masterfully crafted every single phrase he uttered to intimidate and coerce, or his diabolical charisma. Her father had been perfect, but the von Karma line might as well have ended with him.

Miles had not been worthy of the von Karma name. Neither am I. And... yet, she didn't know how she felt about that. In a strange coincidence, all three of them had had their perfect win records dashed to the ground and scattered into the winds by the same defense attorney. Her father... well, that case had been his end. Franziska suspected, though, that even if her father's crime had not been proven, the loss of his perfection might as well have killed him.

Manfred von Karma was gone, and in his place were two protégés that could never be as good as the original—two failed successors. When she'd heard about the 'death' of Miles Edgeworth, Franziska had known that he still lived, a gut feeling that turned out to be correct. His flight had been nigh-incomprehensible to her, and surely a sign of weakness. So, the final perfect von Karma had come to America... there had probably been a part of Franziska that longed to best Phoenix Wright in the courtroom, not out of some twisted desire to avenge her father, but to prove to herself and the world that she was good enough. That she could do something even her mighty father could not. That an exhausted little girl no longer had to be terrified of the eternal specter of Manfred von Karma.

But she had come to America mostly because of Miles. He was lost, he was weak... she wanted to believe he needed her. She was still perfect, and came to find Miles, so that she could guide her little brother back onto the path he'd fallen from like a good big sister should.

Nevertheless, her plans had backfired. She was unable to best Wright in court—her father's shadow weighed heavily upon her, her perfect record was lost... and worst of all, Franziska had found that Miles had found his own path. Not only did he not need her help, he didn't want it. Amidst the shame of losing her perfect record and knowing that she was to forever remain inferior to even her father's memory... that wound cut the deepest of all. Franziska had known that her father had never needed her help, but she'd always told herself that her little brother would always have need for her as an older sister. With that last comfort severed in an instant, Franziska was alone.