Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Chika Chizue. She was a cute girl, and her family loved her. They gave her a silly nickname, "Emiko," because the little braided pigtails in her hair looked like little shrimp.
A few days after her 16th birthday, she was accused of the murder of her mother, Aimi Chizue. Her family, a large family consisting of her father, Genkei, two sisters, Anzu and Hiroko, and a brother, Hide, were all present and witnessed said murder. However, despite Chika being the prime suspect, they all cried out, claiming their little shrimp couldn't have murdered someone so dear to her - her own mother, no less.
Despite their claims, every last one failed the lie detector test. Chika was incarcerated, and placed in solitary. She stayed there for a few days - her trial was to start soon.
A young attorney caught wind of her story. A good young man, who sought nothing but justice. He visited the girl in the detention center, and sat across the glass, looking at her with earnest blue eyes. He saw no murderer, only a young teenage girl who had lost a mother. He asked her simply.
"Did you do it?"
She answered honestly.
"No, sir, I didn't."
His hands sat atop the table, leaning closer to the child.
"Do you know who did it?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor, shifting to the side.
"...No sir, I don't."
He saw no lies. He smiled warmly at the girl behind the glass, reaching across the table in a false gesture to touch her hand.
"I can find out for you, okay?"
She blinked up, confused, and then down again.
"My case isn't winnable, sir. Please don't take it."
He looked into her sad brown eyes again, the color reminiscent of a cup of coffee, diluted with too much milk. Honest eyes. Eyes that only wanted to know the truth.
"I'll tell you what. I'll bet you I can win this."
She furrowed her brow.
"And if you win?"
A sly smile spread across his face.
"If I win, you have to do me one favor."
She crossed her arms, still analyzing his game.
"And if you lose?"
His face dropped, pointing his smile to the table. It was still sly and all knowing.
"I just lose. But let's pretend like I never lose, 'kay?"
She turned her head in a side glance, her eyes narrowed at the man in blue.
"...Okay ...then will you be my attorney, Mr...?"
The grin spread.
"Mr. Wright. Phoenix Wright. You're in good hands, Ms. Chizue. I promise."
And those words rang in her head. 'I promise'. He did all he could, he investigated, spoke to her family, and came down to the wire gathering evidence and proof. Proof she was no murderer. She was hopeful for the first time since her life had fallen apart.
In the next days, she was escorted to court.
At 9:50, she sat in the Defendant's Lobby.
Alone.
At 10:00, she walked into the courtroom.
...Alone.
The judge pounded his gavel, asking where her savior was. She didn't know. She dropped her face to the floor once more, the words resounding in her head.
I promise.
He promised.
"He... promised..."
The judge's face was unamused. The gangly prosecutor in the dingy green suit was also unamused. They glared at her with unforgiving eyes; she longed for the safe haven of eyes that held no judgment. A staggered breath behind her, hoarse and wispy, and footsteps in pairs. Geta sandals. Dress shoes.
"I... p-promised..."
She turned in a haste, blue and magenta, green and violet filling her eyes. Tears bled the colors together.
"I'm sorry, Your Honor. A few moments ago, we found Mr. Wright locked in a freezer."
"Yeah, if we hadn't of found Nick when we did, he'd probably be dead."
"It wasn't a pretty sight, pal. But lucky duck, he's fine, except his voice is gone."
"His voice is gone? That can't do, Mr. Edgeworth! He needs to defend his client."
"Why yes Your Honor, he does need to! If he can't, he concedes and I can go home to my lovely wif-"
A strained squeak of a voice came from the man in blue. The word, despite the voice saying it, was powerful. Forceful. He made due with no desk by slamming the door frame.
"I... c-can de-fend m-my cli-i-ent."
He broke away from the man in the magenta suit, the latter backing away to allow him to stand on his own.
"S-she can sp-peak f-for me."
The little girl was dumbfounded. Scared. Worried.
"But Mr. Wright, I can't defend myself, I'll-"
The all-knowing smile returned, and the man drug himself to the defense bench, taking his place where all good assistants do. He sat a hand on the bench; an invitation. She stood tall, placing her hands on the defense bench. She liked it.
Hours later, the gavel cracked, signifying her innocence and the man in blue's victory. He slung an arm around her, removing her from the courtroom himself, and sat her down in the Defendant's Lobby. He handed her a book.
"Law?"
Her voice was the happiest it'd been in days; possibly years. Confusion tinged it.
"Yup. I want you to study law, Chika."
She furrowed again, eyeing the book, cracking it's spine - but she shot up, narrowing her eyes at the man.
"Your voice! You lied!"
The sly smile returned.
"No lies; just a well rehearsed performance. You'd be a good lawyer, Chika."
And she took those words to heart. She became a lawyer. One that, like her mentor, believed in her clients when the chips were down; when no one else would believe them - she would. She went through her career smiling, and was once seen patting a stressed out attorney on the back, his carefully gelled hair falling into his face. She'd never met him. She smiled warmly, her pigtails bouncing as she stopped short. She glanced at his client, the same warm smile directed at him.
"Ms. Chizue. Chika Chizue. You're in good hands here with Mr. Hair, here. I promise."
His client returned a sly smile from under his hat.
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