It was the end of the school day at Public School 81. Most of the children were running out the door enthusiastically, towards waiting buses or their parents' cars, or simply in the direction of home if they lived close enough. Within a long but not unreasonable walk from here was an apartment building, shabby and low-rent but not totally unlivable, where an old Indian woman and her only grandson had spent eight years, until her sudden death. Several children were going that route, but the man on the corner paid them no attention; they weren't what he was looking for. They were all cheerful, waving goodbye to their friends and running off home to see their families, playing tag and racing each other as they ran. But he knew there was one in every class. And he knew that man still worked here.
There; that had to be her. Even from this distance, he could tell she had heterochromia - one eye was very pale blue, and the other very dark brown. Not only that, she had that...aura, around her. She looked...sunken into herself, as if she'd given up on even trying to socialize with the other children; she certainly wasn't waving cheerfuly at her friends or playing tag with them on the way home, and she looked like she hadn't smiled in three days or more. And look...there he was, showing her out with positively tender care, looking downright fatherly. Fatherly. Ha. She looked like she wanted to get the hell away from him, but was too scared to take the initiative and run. Boy, did he know how that felt.
Well, she was now safely on her bus. Looking bright-eyed and innocent, as if he was someone's older brother here to pick them up in lieu of their parents, he strolled casually across a guarded crosswalk, opposite a stream of students walking home, and right on into the building. It had been over ten years since he'd last set foot in the building, but he still remembered the way to Mr. Greenberg's room. Given how often the room and the man featured in his nightmares, it wasn't like he'd ever forget.
The man was still in there, sitting at his desk writing something, with his coat on, as if he was just finishing up one last thing before heading home. To Demyx's mind, that was all to the good - he'd have hated to miss him. He only gave one cursory knock on the door before letting himself in. "Afternoon, Mr. Greenberg," he said, unable to keep a faint smirk off his face. Honestly, at this point, it didn't matter all that much. "You may or may not remember me, but I'm a former student of yours. I just wanted to stop in and say hi."
The teacher glanced up at him, regarding him with those mild, thoughtful eyes that no one could believe any evil of. No one, that is, except the ones who knew better. "I don't often forget any of my students, but I can't seem to recall you," he said, raising his reading glasses for a better look. "Maybe if you told me your name, I could place -"
"Edmy Ghatori."
Mr. Greenberg jumped as if he'd been shot, and his mild eyes widened with sudden fear. Clearly, he'd heard about Kirk Witauer, and unlike Witauer, he'd known Edmy Ghatori's real name all along, just as well as Demyx had always known his. If he thought Demyx was now coming after him for the same reason he'd gone after Witauer - well, let him; he'd be right. "That's - impossible," he said finally, once he regained a little composure. "You don't look a thing like him."
"Oh, really? How so not? And don't mention the skin. I know that."
"Um..." And Mr. Greenberg was apparently stuck for an answer. As Demyx knew damn well, there was no answer, or at least no answer that couldn't be explained away by time and fortune. Pointing out scars wasn't going to cut it. "...You have hearing aids. I know very well that Edmy never did."
"I lost pretty much all my useful hearing at the age of eighteen. And thank you so much for pointing those out." Demyx's smirk was widening as he approached the desk, he knew it, and he didn't care. He'd never felt powerful in this man's presence, and he'd never felt this powerful in his life. "Let me counter with an argument in my favor - if I wasn't Edmy Ghatori, if I didn't know who you are and what you are in a way and to a level of detail that only someone who knew as much about you as Edmy Ghatori did, what am I doing here now?"
"You're bluffing, is what. You're trying to scare me by accusing me of things I'm not guilty of. The real Edmy Ghatori wouldn't do that. He was a very sweet boy."
"Oh, sweet, is it. Sweet, and shy, and funny-looking, and friendless, like that poor little girl with the mismatched eyes I saw you escorting to her bus, with no one to confide in, and no one to tell what exactly you're doing when you so kindly let these poor bullied kids stay in the classroom and help you out instead of making them go out to recess..." Mr. Greenberg swallowed hard, and Demyx knew he had him. "Then again, they weren't supposed to tell anyone anyway," he added, stroking the older man's face in a way that might have seemed frankly tender if not for the downright sadistic smile on his face. "Like you always said, there could be a lot of trouble if anyone found out, so let's just keep it our little secret, shall we?"
Mr. Greenberg's eyes were wide with fear now, and beads of sweat were visible on his pale face. "I - I don't know what you're talking about," he protested, as if he thought he could deny his way out of the truth. "There's - there's nothing wrong with keeping these students inside instead of sending them out to the playground - they'll only be pushed around and bullied out there! If you knew how cruel bullies can be -"
"Mr. Greenberg, there is nothing I do not know about how cruel one human being can be to another," Demyx hissed, his eyes narrowing into ice-hard slits for a moment, before that sadistic smile slid back into place. "I do have to wonder, though, now I have an adult perspective on things, how wise it is to focus your anti-bullying attentions not on, say, stopping the bullies, but on keeping their victims safe...safely alone with you, under the supervision of no adult but yourself, with no one else knowing where they were...it's not like anyone would come looking for them or for you...you were too clever for that..." He sat down on the edge of the desk, still stroking Mr. Greenberg's face almost lovingly, as a definite purr crept into his voice. "I have to say, though...sometimes, I really miss those recesses in the supply closet. Especially now that I have an...adult perspective on things. That's actually why I'm here...what would you say to one more session in there? For old time's sake? No one has to know..." Purring like a cat in heat now, Demyx took hold of the older man's necktie and tugged on it, pulling him closer, until he had to be close enough to feel Demyx's breath as he whispered. "Your new favorite student doesn't have to know. The other teachers don't have to know. Your wife doesn't have to know. It can be our little secret, just like old times. Except this time...I wanna be the teacher."
It took Mr. Greenberg a good ten seconds of gasping like a fish to ever find his voice again. "No. I - I - absolutely not. I am not interested. You're insane."
"I can't help it. I was molested by a teacher when I was ten. That does shit to you." Demyx's purr was almost a predatory snarl now, as he slid off the desk and into Mr. Greenberg's lap, still holding his necktie. "Don't worry. Just trust me. Even if it feels wrong at first, I know you're going to like it." He was practically salivating now, just anticipating how it would be to have the man who'd destroyed his life - who'd taken his virginity at an age when most kids didn't understand what virginity was, who'd taught him once and for all that no one who wasn't his grandmother could ever be trusted, who he considered most responsible for making him the way he was now - to have him and have revenge on him, to finally be the one with all the power in the equation and the one to do as he damn well pleased...he licked his lips involuntarily, picturing Mr. Greenberg trapped and helpless in the closet, while Demyx whispered those same old words in his ear, the same ones Mr. Greenberg had whispered to him so often..."Remember, don't tell anyone; it's our little secret..."
And then what?
...And then what?
And then Demyx would be the one who had to look in the mirror every night, and know who he was and what he'd done, and that he now had to live with that person and that deed - or take a page out of Kirk Witauer's book, and decide that he simply couldn't live like that. Even if no one else ever found out, Demyx would still know. "Actually, fuck yourself," he said, letting go of Mr. Greenberg's tie and backing off with a snarl; he was disgusted with himself now, but determined to save face and make sure he accomplished his actual goal. "I wouldn't set foot in that closet again if you paid me, and like hell do I want to dirty myself with you one more time in my life."
Mr. Greenberg was clearly shaken to the core; even if Demyx wasn't going to do as he threatened, it was clear now that he damn well could if he wanted to, and that was worth almost as much. "Then...what are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice trembling as much as his hands.
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing here? I'm going to do the same thing I did to Kirk Witauer. I'm going to take our 'little secret' and share it with everyone who needs to know," Demyx said, his eyes and voice hardening to a razor edge as he tried to stave off the monster in the back of his mind that demanded a much more intimate vengeance. "Come on. You got plenty of paper there. Start writing. In pen, please. Complete confessions, to everyone who has a right to know. Let's start with your wife. Your children, if they don't already know firsthand. The principal. The superintendent. Oh, and how about all the parents of all your favorite students, the poor bullied kids that you kept inside for recess because they'd be safer that way."
"Y-you're insane." In response, Demyx slammed a sheet of paper onto the desk in front of Mr. Greenberg and forced a pen into his hand. "You're a-a monster."
"If I am, you made me that way. Now get writing." Demyx could feel something tearing inside his chest, reminding him that even if he wasn't a monster he damn well had the capacity to be one, as was just demonstrated. But he couldn't focus on his own flaws now; instead, he tried to focus all the rage and pain and poison inside himself and assign it a source - the man in front of him. "And make sure you sign your name to each one. Remember, if you don't put your name on it, you don't get credit for it..."
Trying to predict where Nine went, when he wasn't at the castle and wasn't on a mission, was like trying to predict where the wind would blow a leaf when you didn't know which way the wind was blowing to begin with. He was every bit as likely to sneak off to the wealthiest part of a major metropolis for a classical concert as he was to sneak off to a beach to surf, or to Twilight Town to hang out and shop. The only certainty was that, sooner or later, he was bound to turn up again.
It was just...a bit of a surprise for him to turn up at the kitchen table, looking like he'd just woken up from a nightmare that he still wasn't sure wasn't real, and staring at a newspaper as if it was the main villain. Lexaeus couldn't help but look at the newspaper himself, in search of some clue; the first headline that caught his eye was Schoolteacher's disappearance possibly linked to molestation confession letters. If that was the headline Nine was reacting so strongly to, that alone told enough of a story to demand careful handling. "Do you mind if I read this?" he asked before even touching the paper. If Nine didn't even want him to read the full article, well, then, he wouldn't, and live with his curiosity unsatisfied. But Nine looked miserable, and Kingdom Hearts knew he already had enough problems.
Nine didn't even glance in his direction as he answered. "Sure, go ahead," he grunted, his voice barely audible. It was difficult to tell whether he'd even understood the question, but Lexaeus was willing to risk picking up the newspaper, and Nine didn't protest. The article was long but heavier on conjecture than actual detail; the gist of it was that an elementary school teacher named Damian Greenberg had never come home from work one day; he'd last been seen escorting a student to her bus and going back into the building, but where he'd gone from there, no one knew. The only communication from him since then had come in the form of a series of letters, mailed the day of his disappearance, to many different recipients - to his wife and children, to his parents, to the principal of the school where he worked and to the superintendent of schools, to the families of several former students, even to the editor of the newspaper. The letters differed slightly, but in all of them, the missing man confessed to being a child molester who'd victimized at least one student per year throughout his teaching career. Comparisons were being drawn between Greenberg and Kirk Witauer, a political hopeful who'd committed suicide after being publicly called out for a child molester during a rally. Interestingly enough, investigation had shown that Witauer's accuser, a man named Edmy Ghatori, was a former student of Greenberg's, and witnesses had reported seeing someone who matched the description hanging around the school as class let out that day...
"...Nine, what have you done?"
"Don't ask me that!" Nine burst out, covering his face with his hands. "I know! No, it's not a coincidence! I just...what the hell was I supposed to do?"
Well...that had been simultaneously less and much more informative than Lexaeus had expected. Two child molesters exposed, one missing, one dead, and Nine was connected to both of them, presumably from before he lost his heart...it didn't take a mind reader to guess exactly what that connection was, especially since Nine had been no older than fifteen when he joined the Organization. And Nine did possess a very firm sense of right and wrong. But he applied those concepts more strictly to himself than to anyone else - it was difficult to contemplate him doing anything he considered wrong, for any reason, unless his or someone else's life was in immediate danger. The idea of him committing murder, hot-blooded or cold-blooded, was more difficult to imagine than Eight with blond hair and no tattoos.
But two men had been exposed. One had died and the other had vanished. Nine knew them both, and had reason to hate both intensely. And in any city with any convenient body of water, he would find it all too easy to make a murder look exactly like a suicide, or make a man disappear forever.
"Nine...did you murder these men?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Even Axel got suspicious about Witauer...but I swear I didn't kill him. I would have preferred to see him having to live with his new well-earned reputation. The chickenshit really did kill himself."
"What about this other man? The teacher?"
"For fuck's sake...why should I bother denying anything? Yes, I went to the school and confronted him. Yes, I forced him to write all those letters. He wrote them all, but I sent them."
"...You murdered him."
"No - no - I don't know!"
"He is dead, though? You do know that?"
"Yes..."
"How did he die?"
"...Lexaeus...you know the rumor that...if you talk to a person long enough, know all the right words to say and buttons to push...just with words alone, you can break their spirit so completely that...that they spontaneously turn into a Heartless?"
"Yes..."
"...I did it. I did it. Gods help me, Lexaeus, I actually did it..."
AN: This is probably the most evil you will ever see Demyx behaving. He has the capacity to be more evil than this, but if he ever actually was, he would probably commit suicide in remorse later, and he knows it. I'm still not sure whether turning Mr. Greenberg into a Heartless was accidental or not. I feel sorry for Demyx either way - first he decided he was absolutely not going to do anything that would cause him to have trouble looking at himself in the mirror, and then he went and did that. He and his therapist (and his multiple unofficial therapists, including Lexaeus) are going to have some long conversations about this.
Prompt 1: A character kills someone. During the story, a character finds out a dark secret. The story ends in a kitchen. During the story, a famous person goes missing.
Prompt 2: The story starts in a school. The story must have a water-spirit involved in the middle. During the story, a character makes a life-changing decision.
