perfectmatch | week four

[ Ah.

He blinks when they touch foreheads, studying Edamura's face afterwards, but otherwise only gives a small nod as he pulls his hat back into proper position.

Good. Edamura does look a little more like his usual self. This isn't the type of 'helping people' that he has to do as often, so he's relieved it worked. ]

... I was more concerned you'd fracture a tooth with the way you were gritting your teeth. I'm as curious as anyone else would be, but I won't ask about anything you don't want to talk about.

[. . . hah. he lingers for a brief moment before withdrawing and returning to his French press. he has some water set to boil in a nearby electric kettle, so for now! he just adds the coffee grinds]

Hey now. If you think you're getting out of this conversation without me asking about yours, you've got another thing coming.

[. . . this is familiar. not dissimilar to the equivalent exchange of painful information Edamura had demanded back during ghost week]

So think of it as. . . a fair trade.

[a beat]

. . . baggage for baggage.

... baggage for baggage.

[ Touché. Even if he can't shake the feeling that it wouldn't make for a fair deal. He's had most of his life to process what happened to him, after all. Edamura's secret sounds much more raw.

Rom quietly watching Edamura deal with the French press. Despite the circumstances, he is still dedicating a small slice of his thoughts to remembering what Edamura's doing. But otherwise ... ]

Your father. [ Setting aside how ambiguously production had worded that secret -- ] Was it because of what he did to your mother?

[he isn't wrong. that particular memory still swims very close to the surface, bringing with it months of repressed recollections. he hasn't thought about that period of his life for quite a few months now. had striven to push it behind him so he could move forward, unfettered by the scars it left on his heart. then again. . .]

[. . . he supposes his cigarettes are clear evidence that he still has yet to leave it behind]

Yes.

[comes his answer. calm and devoid of any emotion, even as he pulls the hot water from the kettle and begins to pour it into the coffee maker]

. . . and no.

[that answer is just as genuine]

Edited 2025-06-26 05:05 (UTC)

[and before Rom can stew on that too much, can be led entirely astray by Edamura's purposefully vague answers—]

I never told you that my father was in the same business as me, did I?

[ 'Yes and no.' Extenuating circumstances brought about the chance for a killing in the first place, but Edamura took action out of anger, maybe? It'd make sense. For as valid as Edamura's resentment would be, he's also hard to imagine as a cold-blooded killer, no matter how badly he'd been wronged -- ]

Hm?

[ The diversion does work. Rom blinks, train of thought derailed. ]

No, I don't believe you did. Was that why he ... ? [ Did what he did. ]

[as usual, Rom picks up on what Edamura is putting down pretty easily. extenuating circumstances offered the opportunity. . . but action was taken out of years of built up bitterness and fury. well. . . that, and--]

Yeah. It is. He got caught in a job gone wrong, and framed for a crime he didn't commit.

[not that the last part matters to him, though. the man was released from jail eventually, wasn't he? so that didn't excuse his complete absence in Edamura's and his mother's lives. mmm. . . well, Edamura can't tap into his resentment right now, even though he feels it tugging sharply at his heartstrings as he speaks. and so he shelves it in favor of explaining as best as he can with the cameras watching]

After he got out of prison, he came up with some. . . stupid plan to get revenge. [. . .] So he got himself a job with a Shanghai-- trading company.

[a tilt of his head towards Rom, gaze lifting from the coffee maker as he seeks out eye contact. hoping desperately that Rom recalls their conversation from the arcade]

And when I was old enough, I started working for the. . . Tokyo branch of that same trading company.

[ Rom meets Edamura's gaze evenly, barely even blinking, but a slight nod indicates yes, he gets what's going unsaid here. How could he forget their conversation back at the arcade? He'd already been impressed by the thought of Edamura daring to pick a fight with the yakuza; to think he'd actually worked for them, to boot.

He can't help giving a soft exhale, not quite a wan laugh. ]

You're always full of surprises. I didn't take you to be the type to work for that sort of big organization.

[ It's gutsy. Stupid, too, and terribly risky, but mostly gutsy. ]

I take it friction at the workplace then led to conflict?

[. . . good. something eases in Edamura's shoulders when Rom confirms his understanding. truthfully, if he is talking about this at all, he'd much rather be direct. but. . . needs must, when the world (the. . . universe?) is watching]

That's one way to put it. [wry] The Shanghai and Tokyo branches didn't exactly get along. They played nice on the surface, but in reality absolutely hated each other.

[. . .]

. . . at one point, some associates of mine and I tried to relieve the Tokyo branch of some of their. . . merchandise. [the word is said a bit tightly, with a narrowed gaze and firmly set jaw. he feels a sense of nausea curl in his stomach at the mere use of that word, knowing that it is not right. even so. . . he does not elaborate on the nature of that "merchandise." that is a conversation for another day] My. . . father had offered to help us with this, but wound up betraying our intentions to the director of the Tokyo branch.

[fingers drum against the side of the French press as he waits for the coffee to finish steeping]

The director took us out into the middle of Sagami Bay, where my father. . . [. . .] . . . killed my associates right in front of me.

[. . .]

To prove my loyalty. . . and to seize upon the opportunity to take out an important Shanghai operative. . . the director gave me the opportunity to. . .

[he trails off, lapsing into silence, featured shuttered by a mask Rom has seen before. instead of finishing his explanation with words. . . he lifts a hand, index and thumb extended, and levels fingers directly at Rom's forehead]

Edited (for the life of me I cannot spell ) 2025-06-26 14:50 (UTC)

[ It's a lot to take in.

Rom listens quietly, gaze fixed on Edamura to take in the little signs of stress -- the hard line of his shoulders, the clenched teeth, the faint wrinkles under the eyes from narrowed eyes. For as unorthodox a life as he knows he's lived so far, he's never come into contact with anything like what Edamura's talking about now. It must have been ...

He gives a small cant of the head when that finger's pointed his way, blinking owlishly. Then the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile as he takes his hat off to put aside. At first glance, as if to better allow that pantomime of an execution

but in reality, so he can better step forward and wrap his arms around Edamura, pulling him into a close hug. ]

You're truly stronger than you look, Makoto-san. Death is never an easy thing to witness or take part in, no matter the circumstances. I think most would emerge from something like that as a much colder person. [ He squeezes just a little tighter. ] It's admirable that you didn't.

[oh]

[that]

[. . . completely throws him into disarray]

[Edamura's initial reaction is to stiffen underneath the hug, body going rigid as eyes widen, mouth parting in open shock. for as understanding and kind as Rom has been to him so far. . . he didn't expect the same in response to a story about patricide. whatever his reasons. . . however bitter he had felt in that moment. . . however cathartic (traumatic) it had been to pull the trigger of that gun and watch the man called Oz vanish into the water. . . it was still murder. something to be condemned, not. . . comforted]

[. . .]

Edited 2025-06-26 16:30 (UTC)

[or. . . at least it would have been]

[a breathless laugh tumbles from Edamura's lips as he slides one arm around Rom's back to return the hug, a tight, appreciative squeeze. fingers of his other hand bury into black locks, ruffling them slightly (affectionately) as he lets himself lean into the embrace. the lines of tension that frame his body ease into something more. . . comfortable]

You give me way too much credit, Rom.

[from this proximity, Rom can't see the way Edamura's lips curve into a grin. it's still halfhearted-- laced with the exhaustion he feels from remembering this period of his life-- but. . .]

After all, the old bastard-- and my associates-- are all still very much alive.

Hmm ... ?

[ He does pull away a little bit at that, peering into Edamura's face as he processes that confession.

... somehow, he doubts it's as simple as that. This doesn't feel like some straightforward 'gotcha' said on a whim. Those stress responses from before had seemed very real, and while he knows they can be faked by a good actor, would Edamura really have put in all that effort just for a prank? ]

Is that right? [ Rom smiles as he brings his hands up to squish Edamura's face between his palms. Gently, not painfully, but just enough to seem like petty 'revenge' for getting a fast one pulled on him. ] That's mean~ I was genuinely worried for you, you know?

[ It's his turn for them to touch foreheads, a light bonk. Admonishing. ]

My poor heart ached at the thought of you having to go through something like that, even just as a farce.

[Rom's instincts are correct; there's a lot more to it than a simple bait and switch. there's the fact that Edamura didn't know those "deaths" had been a part of the confidence scheme in the first place. then there is the fact that he had picked up that gun and wielded it all on a whim, hoping he was hitting the right beats for the sake of the con. praying that he was adapting accordingly. . . and not making a huge mistake]

[he allows for the squished cheeks, knowing that he deserves it for the order in which he told the story (Odile sure had admonished him properly for being a terrible narrator), but it's the forehead bump that sees him lifting his hands to brush fingers against knuckles, as though keeping Rom’s touch gently in place]

Your heart can take it. . .!

[a tease. still not quite to 100%, but another effort as made. even as he sobers afterwards]

. . . but if I'm being honest. . . [. . .] Even if I never really intended to kill him. . .

. . . I think, in that moment, angry as I was— thinking about mom, and how he left us both to fend for ourselves to chase his stupid flights of fancy around the world— a small part of me. . .

[. . .]

. . . kind of wanted him to rot at the bottom of the Sagami Bay.

[and that's why he had said "yes" to Rom's earlier question]

[ As requested, he keeps his hands there for a little longer -- thumbs idly brushing against Edamura's cheeks as he listens, the small calluses and scars at his fingertips rough against the smoother surface of his skin.

... only a small part of him, huh.

Rom gives a soft exhale before leaning forward to nose against Edamura's hair for a moment. A little nuzzle in reassurance before he lets go so he can lean back against the counter once more. ]

That would be normal, I think. The desire to see him punished for wronging you and your mother. Anger and resentment aren't harmful on their own, you know? It's only when one is devoured by those emotions that it becomes a problem. And I still stand by what I said before -- that your mother was fortunate to have a son like you, who wouldn't cross that final line, but would still be righteously angry in her stead.

[ He glances aside, hands loosely laced in thought. ]

... it's a terrible thing your father did to your family, after all. I can imagine how painful it must have been.

[sorry give him like .5 seconds mid-emotional conversation to be extremely gay about the way those fingers feel- rough and rugged— against smooth skin]

[ANYWAY]

[there is a part of him that feels bereft when Rom pulls away. . . and yet another part of him that can hold itself a little lighter, now that those words have been spoken aloud. he has never told anyone how he felt in that moment, has he. . . ? how terrified and furious and hurt and raw it had been. gods]

[a small exhale, and finally he reached for the French press again to push the plunger down, freeing the freshly brewed liquid from the coffee grinds]

I don't know if that's true. But. . . thanks.

[for saying it]

. . . anyway! That incident had been part of the asshole's revenge plan from the very beginning. Giving me an opportunity to. . . [a pause] . . . turn myself into a— monster, in order to gain the trust of the one much bigger than me: the director herself.

[dryly, with a tiny hint of bitterness, though he tries to keep it light]

He sure as shit didn't find the time to tell me beforehand, though. Did you know? Adapting on the fly sucks!

[ Demanding an immediate demonstration of the French press really had been about giving Edamura a familiar task to focus on to ground his thoughts once more, but maybe it wasn't a bad idea in general. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee fills the air as Edamura pushes the plunger down -- it's soothing.

Rom permits himself a moment to luxuriate in it before giving a low laugh. ]

Aahh -- maybe I can guess at what his reasoning for it was? Something like -- 'not telling you results in a more genuine act. It was worth it. And I knew you'd be able to pull it off.'

[ Scummy. But also -- the sort of thing he'd do himself, if necessary. He isn't beyond manipulating people a little bit for a good cause, after all. ]

Perhaps you can take it as a compliment, at least. Even if it was cruel.

[bluntly]

I think he just didn't trust me.

[. . . which kind of stings when it thinks about it. not as badly as it had stung in the moment-- especially not now, considering how the con had ended with him pulling the wool over his father's eyes for a change-- but still]

. . . but whatever. It's. . . over now.

[with the coffee made, Edamura pours two fresh mugs, sliding one towards Rom as he leans over the counter again]

[ oof.

Rom blinks as he picks up one of the cups, though he doesn't drink from it yet. Just holds it cupped in his hands for a moment, head canted in thought as he regards Edamura.

He's not even being intentionally glib when he asks, plainly: ]

Would it have really brought you comfort if he did trust you? ... he doesn't sound like the sort of person most would want to be trusted by.

[. . . that sure is an angle that Edamura has never considered]

[he pauses, gaze flickering down towards his own mug, eyes locked on the murky surface of the warm liquid. fingers curl into fists against the counter, before he exhales a sharp breath]

. . . I don't know.

[quiet. a bit painfully]

. . . maybe.

[ Silently, he wonders if that's just because the man is his father. The quiet hunger for approval from a father figure, no matter how grimy the circumstances might be. Unfortunately, if that's the case, he has zero reference points from which to speak.

Frustrating. He wishes he could help more.

Instead, he has to settle for giving Edamura a little nudge to the side -- gentle, to avoid spilling his coffee. ]

That's still just one man's evaluation of you. Even if you do still wish for it ... I hope you won't forget that there are plenty of other people who do trust you.

[the gentle nudge draws Edamura's gaze up again. for a moment, he is silent, allowing himself time to absorb those words. to let them permeate through his bitter thoughts, tunneling through to the other side where something. . . a little less hurt, a little less painful, exists]

[. . . and then he slings an arm around Rom's shoulders, rocking into him with nearly the full force of his body weight, open and affectionate. he is being mindful of the coffee!!]

You're a nice guy, Rom.

[listening. offering counsel. carrying that baggage just as promised, even if it's heavy]

If it helps. . . ! I got my revenge on the asshole a few months after that. Nothing violent, but—

[a small huff as he settles]

. . . despite everything, he and I are a bit more even now.

[he has yet to forgive. but at the very least. . . he is more capable of it now than he was before]

[ Wah ... the coffee ... As usual, Rom permits the manhandling without protest, other than gripping his coffee cup a little more firmly to prevent it from sloshing. It'd be a waste to spill any of it.

And while he can tell this matter has hardly been resolved ... that's fine. He knows these things take time. They can talk about it more later, if need be. So long as Edamura's able to feel more grounded in the moment, that's enough.

He settles for giving a low laugh before leaning in, his delivery a familiar, annoying sing-song: ]

Reaaaaally, Makoto-san? I don't know ... I can only imagine what kind of brutal revenge you took on the poor man, given how uncontrollable your violent tendencies are.

[ Haha. As if. ]

[it's true. the matter isn't even close to being resolved. there's so much more to the story than what Edamura has touched upon. how it felt, being so deeply undercover for so, so long, twisting himself into something dark and angry and inhuman and unrecognizable. . . all for the chance to gut the real monster from the inside out. lying to her, to himself, to his crew, to his father. . . just to make it through to the very end]

[but that is a story for another day. when he can tell Rom every piece of it, without the cameras watching them. form start to finish. no detail left unsaid]

[FOR NOW. . . Edamura's features grow slack as he gives Rom a flat, pinched look]

[and then promptly shoves a hand into his face]

I can show you violent if you really want me to. . . !

week four | mingle

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