メ Prosecutor Simon Blackquill 🪶

"Ha...! Don't you know anything? No matter the man, we all wear masks... Either on our faces or over our hearts."

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DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE NICKEL SAMURAI SERIES. Ugh, your accusation that I didn't watch the series practically sounds like a /compliment./ Any amount of that dastardly show I've seen is FAR too much. The only reason it's holding together is through merch sales and empty nostalgia. Hah!

And that is precisely why the writing of the Steel Samurai's character is such a travesty! Such a compelling character as the Pink Princess, written as strongly as she is despite the stereotypes of women in this genre, just to end up with THAT guy? And naming their baby. Iron. Infant. IRON INFANT.

I did not spend seven years in prison for my whimsy to be called into question over FAKE. SAMURAI. The life of a ronin could have been MUCH more compelling to follow, from his quest for revenge to finding community and love with the Pink Princess! But NO! BECAUSE NO ONE CARES FOR CULTURE ANYMORE.

Even so called "creative interpretation" isn't an excuse for blatant LIES. The Steel Samurai isn't even a SAMURAI. He's a RONIN. He does not serve a daimyo and THEREFORE can not in any way be called a true samurai! It's disgraceful! Any crumb of merit the series may have had is made USELESS by it!

"If you stick to your cases with as much resilience as you do braiding, you'll manage just fine. Take it one strand at a time, repetition but with a keen eye for detail. I'm not one for advice, however. If you need any, I'm likely not the one to seek out. Ask Gavin or Edgeworth-dono."

"Hm, Simon Blackquill. I had heard of your arrival, but I'm not usually so inviting to newcomers. Perhaps you've impressed me to some degree, Daichi-dono."

[Moving her chair back over to her desk, she resumes working on some discarded case or other, her gaze no longer falling on Daichi.]+

My problem? That blight on the good and noble name of samurai has been tormenting my search history for YEARS. Do you understand how difficult it is to have a legitimate well researched discussion on the era of the samurai when that STUPID outfit shows up on every search result? Do you? Do you???

[There's a proud smile on her face, nodding her head in approval.]

"You did wonderfully. I'll be sure to come to you if I need my hair braided again, hm?"

[She barks a laugh, startling to most but oddly warm in this circumstance.]

"Don't forget to practice on your own hair. Time builds skill."

Ugh, /no./ My endeavors are nothing like that low-effort derivative scum. I'd rather go BACK to prison.

.

Yes. I engaged the guards in an honorable duel for my freedom, fighting my way through a forest of iron bars. Only when I saw the light of the sun for the first time in years did I finally lay my sword to rest. So. Whatever.

. . .

. . .

. . .Worse? Worse. The movies make it seem cooler.

"Ah. My... Apologies, Clay. Adjusting has been more difficult than I expected. Hopefully soon, yeah? We'll have to plan something."

Um.

"It isn't hard to learn, but the trick is building the muscle memory. Here, I'll undo it so you can try."

"Watch me carefully. I'll let you practice once I'm done demonstrating."
[Slowly, murmuring the instructions to Daichi with uncharacteristic patience, Simon weaves the strands together into a very neat, small braid.]+

"It's an understandable fear."
[She hums in thought for a moment, gazing off to the side before pulling a chair closer to Daichi and sitting down to lessen the height difference. Pulling her ponytail over her shoulder, she separates a large section into three strands.]+

It just occurred to me that the vast majority of the items in my apartment once belonged to people I've known. Which would be oddly poetic if it wasn't because I was in prison.

"Soon enough, fear not. He'll likely stop for a snack on the way."

"I'm sure he'll visit you again. Don't feel pressured to keep anything for him, I've been spoiling him at home anyway."

Hm...

[She's eyeing him critically, but not meanly.]

Have you considered another style. I often have to braid my own hair to avoid cutting it.

I'm not surprised. At least hunting him down won't be an ordeal.

Pleasure doing business with you, Sad Monk.

I'll let you bring any work you have to my office on occasion if this stays between us. Equal exchange. We work cool and undisturbed, and the fan remains secret.

We need to dramatically cut our hair with swords, I fear.

Hm... I'll have to find him.

The false hope of central air, and now we're resorting to frozen treats doled out by our fellow prosecutors. I'm tempted to drag my box fan from home, but I'd have to hide it or else the whole damn office would be huddled around my desk.

All returned to their owners safe and sound. And in costume. The culprit took care of his cast and crew at least.

They called me in for a case. While I was at the store. Some imbecile decided to steal 15 neighborhood cats to put on a live production of Into the Woods and I had to suffer for it.

Only if you're fine with soba again. All I have in my fridge is... Mirin, a single pear, and food for Taka.

This checks out. You're the real Athena.