All you wanted was to be stronger.

You had a pretty good childhood, you think. Your parents loved you, took care of you, and you saw the joy in their eyes when they saw you. You saw your father's pride in you when you would spar with other kids and win; though he would chide you, warning you of the craving for blood that every Yato would eventually experience. You would nod, think about it for a while, but the next day, you would be at it again. You definitely tried your best to prove your strength, and you were well on your way until your sister came.

You saw your mother's happiness when she bore your little sister, which was a pleasant change from the dreary weather and the dreary expressions on the faces of those around you. But as your little sister grew, you understood that happiness less and less. She was a weak little thing, your little sister. Though she could handle herself against the older brother who would steal her share of hot noodles, she stood no chance against men as strong as your father.

Neither did you, at the time. But, in your defence, you at least tried.

Then your mother started to become weak. She was still the foul-mouthed mother that your little sister was quickly taking after, but there was less spunk, less energy, less fight in her. It was like the stronger you grew, the weaker she became. Like you were sucking the strength out of her. But you had to get stronger. You had to get stronger for your little sister, because she sure as hell didn't seem like she was going to do it for herself.

Your father was in the house less often; he was in the planet less often. He travelled the galaxy, trying to find something that would cure your mother's weakness; and at the same time he let the universe know the true strength of the Yato race, of Umibozu. But no one knew what it was that made your mother weak; she just was. Still, it didn't stop your father from hoping that maybe someone out there would know what to do.

It was on the rare day that your father was home, when you were sparring with him, that your little sister came running out of the house, on the verge of wailing her lungs out. You could tell how badly she was trying to hold her tears; and when she yelled "Mami's dying!" you never saw the waterworks burst, because you were running to your mother like a whole stampede was after you.

You were there by her deathbed when she passed. She left you two words – stay strong – and you knew what you had to do.

You left home quickly after that. Your little sister wailed for you to stay, and it annoyed you so so much. She should fight for what she believed, she should hit you once or twice – you probably needed to be hit to feel like yourself again – but she only cried. She even begged you to take her with you, and that was what pissed you off the most.

"I have no use for weaklings," you told her, and from then on, never looked back.

You first started to travel the planet, searching for other Yato to beat. You picked a fight with a man too great, and you know you bit off more than you could chew. But you worked your way up from there, and after what must have been one or two hundred fights, you were fighting the man you first lost against, and beating his face to a pulp.

The adrenaline was amazing, wasn't it?

A group of pirates who called themselves Harusame found you then. They recruited you into the 7th Division, under a Yato named Abuto; but you liked to think it was you just hitching a ride to travel the universe.

There were a lot of strong creatures in other planets, but none of them truly as strong as a Yato. You saw how the 7th Division destroyed every Amanto creature that dared challenge them. You saw how the Yato craved for blood, for slaughter, for war.

Your father had warned you about that feeling, that thirst running through your blood. But where was he, how could he stop you from piercing your trademark umbrella through that pathetic Amanto that dared call you weak?

It felt too satisfying, to release all the anger you had and put that into a good, solid fight. But that was where the problem lay: the stronger you became, the less creatures could put up a fight. Harusame made you the captain of the 7th Division, but it didn't matter to you if no one was strong enough to keep up with you. The universe became too dreary, too dull, too much like the planet you left.

Then the Harusame started dealing with the creatures from Earth, and you started to think you were far too strong for the universe. Humans were probably the weakest creatures of all. Humans cared too much, cried too much, thought about the soul too much. Even your little sister could probably take on thirty of those humans.

But you saw hope once, in an underground city that hid itself from the stinging rays of the sun on Earth. Those men called samurai: really, they were no big deal. But you could see it in that man with hair shining silver, in the way he carried himself, the look in his eyes. The smell of blood still lingering on his skin. It didn't matter how long ago he'd last shed blood; you could sense his adrenaline, his blood craving for others' blood whether he knew it or not.

And he beat Hosen, King of the Night. You knew then just how much fun it would be to spar against such a samurai.

But you never got a chance, and you had Abuto to thank for it. He claimed to have lost his arm against a fight with your little sister, and you didn't believe it at first. The crying, whiny little sister, who stood at your old house's doorstep, wailing for you to stay? Sure, you'd seen how capable she had become with her umbrella, but surely not enough to rip Abuto's arm clean off – but Abuto told you she broke the chains, and you understood.

Those chains that bound a Yato to sanity. Those chains that were the fine line between keeping a level head, and basking in the blood of war.

It was interesting that your little sister had become comrades with the samurai. Maybe he had taught her a thing or two; and you hoped he would keep doing it, so someday your sister would be strong enough to fight for herself, like she fought with Abuto that day. Someday, she would fight you, and someday, you would fight the samurai. Until then, you would keep fighting, growing as strong as you could each day.

Which brings you back to why you're here today, meeting with the samurai named Takasugi Shinsuke. He has the same scent, the same thirst for blood as the other samurai; only that Takasugi has a beast roaring in him, much more desperate for blood than any other you've seen.

It's a frightening thing to think about, but you like it. It's a pleasant change from the weak ones you've beat, the weak ones you've left behind in your life. Working with someone who could be as strong as you, or even stronger than you – it chills you to the bone, and it heats the Yato blood running through your veins.

All you wanted, in the end, was to be stronger.

The blood that comes with it is an added bonus.

I just wanted to write something for Kamui's birthday but I feel half of this is rambling and the other half gibberish. Like I was going somewhere with it, but it went somewhere else then headed to nowhere… Also, apart from a skim read, this is unedited; and the title is me trying Gintama titles and failing. oops