A/N: Hey, everyone! This fanfic is the story of how Ragnarok became the Demon Sword he is today. One day while watching Soul Eater, I realized that no one had ever taken the time time explain Ragnarok's back-story; they mentioned that he'd been melted down and placed in Crona's bloodstream, but they never mentioned how exactly he got there. So, I came up with this three-part fanfic! It's in first person, a writing style which I'm not completely used to, but I tried my best to write as if Ragnarok was the one typing on the keyboard. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Ragnarok, Soul Eater, or anything related to it.

When I Was Young

Part One

Hey. The name's Ragnarok, but you probably know me as the Demon Sword. I'm sure you know all about my Meister's past, about how his mother was an evil witch who infused him with black blood and tried to use him to bring about the end of world . . . Yeah, that's not news to you, right?

But does anyone ever wonder about me? About my past, and why I am the way I am? And no, it's not just because Crona's a whiny little baby and I constantly have to beat him up to keep him on the right track.

No, my story starts before I even met him, before I knew just what exactly it meant to have "black blood."

It all started when I was nine years old.


My whole life, I've never been good at dealing with other people- oh, god, you see what that pink-haired idiot's done to me? I'm even talking like him now! Geez . . .

Anyway, back to the point. So, I've never been good with people. No matter how hard I tried, people would either avoid me or make fun of me, mostly about my hair.

One thing you should know about me before I continue- I wasn't always the black substance that lives in Crona's bloodstream. No, I used to be completely different.

I used to be human.

I can still remember what I looked like- a pale, scrawny kid with dark eyes and a permanent scowl. My most prominent feature, though, was definitely my hair. It was a deep black that looked almost purple-tinted in the light, but the most interesting part about it was the striking white "X" in the center. The four sides of the "X" started from the tips of my hair and went all the way up to join together at the very top of my head. No matter how long I grew my hair, cut it short, or tried to dye the white out, those four sides always joined together at the top.

Naturally, since this was so unusual, it was constantly a source of interest to everyone I met. Everyone thought I'd dyed the white "X" onto the black, but when I tried to explain that it was natural, they didn't believe me. Not even my parents knew why I'd been born with such strange hair.

But, it wasn't just my hair that made people avoid me. I was the only weapon in a neighborhood of normal humans. Kids avoided me because their parents told them that I was dangerous. Of course, I was perfectly in control of my abilities; it's not like I was going to just transform into a sword the second somebody ticked me off. But there was no way to convince the other adults of this; even my parents' efforts went unrewarded.

And yes, for those of you who are wondering, I do have parents. Or, at least, I did. Who knows if they're still alive now after all these years . . .

Anyway, they were wonderful people, and I loved them with all my heart.

I know what you're thinking: Ragnarok, the Demon Sword, capable of love? Puh-lease!

But it's true- I did love them, and anyone who knew me back then could've told you so. No matter what others said about me, they stuck by my side, and even defended me when people's distrust turned to outright anger and violence.

You see, the people who weren't afraid of me took it upon themselves to make my life a miserable hell. I would constantly have things thrown at me, and I was quite frequently beaten up by the local gang of "Ragnarok-haters," as I liked to call them.

Pretty big difference from how I am now, huh? When I was young, I was actually the one being bullied, instead of the other way around. Crona thinks that that's the reason I'm so mean to him- that now that I've found someone weaker than me, I'm taking out all my pent up revenge on him.

Ha! Even if that is true, it's not like I'd ever admit that to him, the damn idiot . . .

Anyway, to make a long story short, no one but my parents really liked me when I was a kid.

And you all wonder why I'm so twisted.

But all that's just background. I'm sure the real thing you want to know about is how in the world I ended up inside Crona's bloodstream.

Well, now you're gonna learn the truth, so you'd better be ready.


Like I said before, it all started when I was nine. That was when I had my first encounter with Medusa.

I was walking home after once again being roughed up by the Ragnarok-haters. I spit out a bit of blood and wiped my mouth off on my hand, glaring at the liquid as it stained my skin black.

That was another one of my quirks- the black blood. Instead of it being the normal, bright red, it had always been a disgusting black. The first time I'd gotten a cut and my parents had seen the dark liquid spilling down my knee, they'd rushed me to a hospital, fearing that I'd somehow gotten a horrible disease and was going to keel over any second. I had to go through every test imaginable, but the results were all the same: the doctors could find absolutely nothing wrong with me. After a few months of constant observation in the hospital, they finally released me, telling me that the black blood didn't act any differently than normal blood and that they didn't think it would have any negative effects on me in the near future. (By the way, it didn't get that useful ability to turn hard as a rock until later on.)

Of course, I tried to hide the fact that my blood was black. People were already concerned enough about my hair and the fact that I was a weapon; they didn't need another reason to dislike me. But, naturally, my secret was soon found out (after I'd accidentally scratched myself while climbing a tree), and people became even more wary of me.

Oh, but I'm getting off-topic; I was talking about meeting Medusa for the first time.

So I was walking home after another bad day, when I got the feeling that I was being followed. I turned around, but no one was there. Frowning, I took a step forward and promptly ran into someone who I knew hadn't been there a second ago.

"Oops, my bad," I apologized.

"It's no problem at all," the person said, and I realized that it was a woman. She was wearing a black, hooded jumpsuit with what looked two eyes on the sides of the hood. Her golden hair was tied in the front, and she had strange tattoos that wrapped around her arms.

"I've never seen you around here before," I commented. Once word had spread that a weapon with black blood was living in the area, people tended to stay away if they could help it. "Are you looking for someone?"

The woman's face split into a grin that reminded me of a hungry predator staring down its next meal. I started to shift my feet uncomfortably.

"Yes, actually," the woman (you can probably guess who, by now) replied. She took a step towards me. "I've been looking for you, Ragnarok- The Demon Sword."

"Excuse me?" I questioned, still not liking the way she was smiling at me. "'Demon Sword?' What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, you haven't heard that name before?" The woman's expression turned surprised, but I could tell that the emotion was fake; she was perfectly aware that I had no idea what she was talking about.

"No, I haven't," I snapped. "I have to get home. 'Scuse me." I tried to push past her, but she grabbed my arm. I whirled around, glaring at her. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Please, just give me a moment to explain," she said, tightening her grip as I tried to jerk my arm out of her grasp. "I know all about you, Ragnarok; about how you can turn into a sword . . . and about your black blood."

I let out a slight gasp and narrowed my eyes. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about my black blood, sure, but there was no reason at all that a complete stranger should've been able to gain that information.

"How do you know about that?" I asked suspiciously, still trying to get my arm free. She just chuckled darkly.

"I've been doing some research. You are much more special than you realize, you know. One day, you can become the greatest weapon in the world, if you choose to do so, and I can help you reach that goal. If you'll let me, that is."

I snorted, not believing a word she was saying. I figured she must've been one of those crazy people that live on the streets or something that my parents had warned me about. I gave my arm another tug, but the woman refused to let go. I growled in annoyance.

"Look, lady, who are you?" I yelled. The woman blinked.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I was so excited about finally getting a chance to talk to you that I forgot to introduce myself!" she said. She waved a hand over the ground and then slowly let go of my arm. "You can refer to me as Lady Medusa, and . . ."

I tried to dart down the sidewalk, but I was instantly thrown back by some unseen force. It felt like I'd run straight into an invisible wall, and I landed on my back on the sidewalk. Medusa leaned over me menacingly.

"I'm a witch!" she laughed, and my eyes widened. My parents had warned me about witches; they were nothing but trouble.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and tried again to run away, but I was once again thrown back. Medusa continued to laugh as I repeated this process several more times, only to be constantly knocked off my feet.

"You can't run away," she told me as I lay on the ground, breathing heavily. "You're laying on one of my Dark Arrows; anytime you try to get away, you'll just be thrown back to me."

"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying my best to glare, but I have to admit I was getting a little scared. I mean, really, how often is it that a witch comes personally calling for you?

"Like I said before, I just want to help you," Medusa replied. She held out her hand to me. "I can teach you all the things you need to know to become the most powerful weapon in the world. Then you can take revenge on all those mean kids who bully you, wouldn't that be nice?"

I stared at her hand a moment, debating if she was really telling the truth. After a few seconds I stood up on my own, ignoring her hand.

"I don't trust you," I spat. "How the hell can you expect me to believe that you won't just kidnap me and use me for some horrible experiment or something?"

Just for a split-second, Medusa's mouth twitched up into a devilish grin, but she wiped it off her face so fast that at that time I'd missed it. God, how I wish I'd noticed that smile all those years ago . . . then I might've been more wary of any plans she had in store for me. However, at that time, I wasn't that good at picking up fleeting signs like that.

"I'm not going to kidnap you," Medusa said. "Listen, I'll tell you what; you can have tonight to think it over. Tomorrow, I'll send my son to see if you'd like to have another chat with me, about your mysterious black blood. Haven't you ever wondered about it, and why only you seem to possess it?"

"Well, yeah," I muttered, but then I quickly shook my head and gave Medusa a defiant stare. "But I still don't trust you."

"Well, that's fine. Like I said, think it over tonight, and I'll have my son get your answer tomorrow. He'll be the boy with the pink hair and the distressed expression."

She waved her hand over the ground again and I felt a whoosh of air. I looked down and saw that the Dark Arrow previously on the pavement was nowhere to be found.

"Now, hurry home, Ragnarok," Medusa said, smiling again. "You don't want to be late for dinner."

I didn't move for a few seconds, and Medusa waved me away, giving me a look that it was okay to leave. Cautiously, I took a step back. When I wasn't knocked of my feet, I took another and another, until I turned around and was running as fast as I could down the sidewalk, ready to get inside my nice, warm house as soon as possible.

Now, as I think about what Medusa said to me that day, I realize something: she told me that she wasn't going to kidnap me, but she never said anything about the "horrible experiment" part.

If only I'd realized this little detail when I was a kid.

Things could have been so much better.


A/N: As I said before, this story will be told in three parts. However, I can't give you a definate time when this will be updated, because I still have a little more to write. But don't worry, Part Two will definately be up within three weeks! While you're waiting, please review and tell me what you think! I'd love to hear feedback!