((I blame Reddit for this. The title obviously references Nietzsche. Don't let the names in the beginning confuse you, we'll get there. This is a prequel, and while I struggled with that plan myself, it makes more sense. Let's face it, no-one holds their baby for the first time and goes, 'Awww, look at that face! I'll call him Mukotsu because he'll be so fond of airborne poisons.'

This might get a sequel – see the note after the last chapter – but I cannot even estimate when that might happen.))

1. No Return

Shigeru's hands shook as they broke from the dead monk's neck. His heart racing as if it wanted to break from his chest, he backed up and away and staggered from the small hut. He started running until his left leg gave under him only a few steps away. Now he felt the ache, the infection that had almost claimed him – would have if Tenchi hadn't saved his life by taking care of him when he couldn't even find the strength to crawl to a river to drink.

And of course, Shigeru had got it all wrong again. Had taken his kindness for attraction.

It wasn't this one rejection that had broken something in him. It had been a long, slow process that had taught him he was worthless to everyone in the world. He was used to ridicule and being beaten and he had learned to give as good as he got so he was at least left alone. If he had hoped that being able to fight would earn him some respect, he was sorely mistaken.

Yes, people feared him, but without so much as a hint of approval. Sometimes they just had to look at him, sometimes it came when he voiced the slightest bit of kindness, but it always came: repulsion and terror. And this time this combination had found him yelling at Tenchi that he wasn't a monster, that he didn't choose who he was and that he absolutely didn't mean to harm him. He couldn't be the only one, could he? The words could have been for any number of people, but he'd always held them inside, letting them fester and eat his soul. Tenchi paid the price for a dozen souls.

And then, when Tenchi had said that he should have left Shigeru to die, that he would have if he had known, and that the only reason why he wouldn't rectify his mistake by killing him now was that having saved him previously made him responsible for him – said all this with his entire face contorted in abhorrence, as if Shigeru was some stinking, slimy demon – he had launched himself at the monk, pummelling him with his fists while hot tears streaked down his face.

A backhand had sent him crashing into the wall. A heartbeat later, Tenchi leaned over him to spit in Shigeru's face – and the pain turned to cold fury. Shigeru had grabbed him by his robes and thrown him to the ground. He'd felt the impact of Tenchi's head on the wooden floor, hard, but not enough to kill him. Holding him down, Shigeru had straddled him and closed his fingers around his throat, squeezing the life from him. Suddenly the fear in Tenchi's eyes was like nectar and he drank it all up.

Without loosening his grip, Shigeru leaned down, his mouth almost touching his ear. 'You're mine now. Imagine what I'll do with you after. If anyone comes this way before you rot, they'll find you broken and utterly ravished, even if you no longer feel a thing.' The threat was empty, but he licked over the side of his face, tasting his sweat and feeling him shudder under his touch. Shigeru slipped the tip of his tongue into Tenchi's ear, relishing in his feeble attempt to squirm away, and grinned against his cheek. He didn't want to touch him in such a manner. Not anymore. But he wanted Tenchi to think so, so he'd give Shigeru all the fear he had to give until he finally, finally went limp.

Now, in the punishing glare of the sun outside, Shigeru's hands were shaking as he stared at them. He had killed before, sure, but in battle. Not like this. Taking a clean breath, he walked back into the hut. He refused to look at Tenchi's body. What he wanted was the sword he had on his wall. Maintaining it would be hell, but it had to be a lot of fun to use it. He was a good fighter, and this blade would make him an even better one.

Shigeru heard the scraping sound behind him the moment he had the hilt in his hand. Spinning where he stood, he lashed out with the sword like a whip – and it unfolded gracefully, the joined blades wrapping around Tenchi. 'So, you weren't dead, yet. You said you're responsible for me now. I'll relieve you of that burden.' Shigeru hardly recognised his own voice. He'd screamed himself hoarse before, now all he managed was a broken croak. 'You're the last. No one will hurt me again. Ever.' He pulled viciously and watched the blades sink into Tenchi. Fuelled by his agonised scream he yanked again, basking in the wild joy that suffused every fibre of his body at his victim's pain and terror. He felt more alive than he ever had before and he knew this was what he was supposed to be. 'Thank you. For my life and for this.' With a third yank, Tenchi's body fell apart. At a small movement of his hand, the blades of Shigeru's sword – because now it was his and would be forever – rejoined. It had to be demon-made. No human could craft something so wonderfully wicked.

((Ok. I know that their (Bankotsu and Jakotsu's) swords have no demonic powers (at this point, or never, depending on where you come from, iirc), but crafting weapons like that for people would be pointless. Especially the Banryuu which three people could barely carry. So I submit they were made by demons for demons with either great strength or dexterity but no spiritual power worth mentioning, so any added effect would have been wasted. That, in turn, makes them non-harmful for human wielders. There is no canon about this. Just let me.))