Chapter no.61 Naruto
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Adamos_Amet
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Chapter no.61 What the Fox doin?!
Kurama's first memory was not of the world, but of himself.
He opened his eyes to endless darkness, only to realize that the darkness was not the sky or the earth, but his own shadow stretched out across the land. His body was vast. His tails churned behind him like storms. Every step he took made the ground groan, every breath he drew seemed to shake the air. He was alive, yet already burdened with the truth that his existence would never be small. He was too large, too loud, too powerful to ever belong.
To him, Hagoromo was not just the Sage of Six Paths. He was a father. The one who named him, who taught him, who spoke to him as though he were more than a mass of chakra and teeth. Kurama cherished that bond, but it also weighed heavily on him. He wanted to live up to it. He wanted to be the proof that the Sage's dream of Ninshu was not in vain.
Unlike his brothers and sisters, Kurama did not hunger for power alone. He sought understanding. Where others used their chakra as raw might, Kurama honed his in another way. He learned to feel the hearts of humans. He stretched his chakra into the air, the soil, the space between people, and discovered that human hearts always beat in rhythm with something unseen. Hope, fear, anger, love. These were currents he could sense, as real to him as the tides of the sea.
When Hagoromo's time neared its end, he gave Kurama a duty. A temple, and the responsibility to guide the humans who gathered there. Kurama accepted. He sat beneath the stone eaves, the humans kneeling before him with trembling hands and wary eyes. He felt their fear, but bore it in silence. He told himself it did not matter.
What mattered was the Sage's dream.
What mattered was Ninshu.
If these humans could learn, if they could understand, perhaps one day his father's faith would be justified.
But humans are fragile and short-lived.
Kurama watched them grow old. He watched them wither and return to the earth while children took their place. He watched whole generations rise and fall like waves. Their lives burned quickly, but not brightly. For all their fleeting time, they wasted so much of it in conflict.
They quarreled over borders. They killed over food. They fought over pride. And when Hagoromo's gift of chakra spread among them, instead of using it to understand each other, they sharpened it into weapons.
That was the moment Kurama broke.
His voice rattled the stones of his temple. How dare they. How dare these ungrateful creatures sully his father's dream. Chakra was meant to connect. Chakra was meant to heal. It was supposed to be the bridge that ended loneliness. And yet they bent it toward slaughter and conquest, spilling blood with the very thing that was meant to bring them peace.
Kurama's anger burned hotter than fire. He left the temple behind.
He wandered. He sought to understand what his father had seen in these humans. Perhaps he had missed something. But wherever he went, disappointment followed.
He crossed barren deserts, only to see villages turn their faces away in terror. He carried food into famine-stricken lands, only for the survivors to call him a harbinger of disaster. He frightened away bandits who preyed on the weak, and those very same weak raised trembling hands toward the heavens, praying in fear that the beast wouldn't devour them next.
Kurama did not know when the name began, but soon it spread from mouth to mouth like fire in dry grass.
Demon.
Monster.
Calamity.
A beast of ill omen who appeared only when ruin was near.
And all Kurama felt was anger.
For centuries, he bore their fear. For centuries, he endured their whispers. He saved them from storms, from earthquakes, from enemies, and they spat his name as though he was the one who brought such things upon them. The longer it went on, the more that anger curdled into something heavier.
Apathy.
If they would always see him as a demon, then why should he care for them? If they would curse him no matter what he did, then why bother at all?
So he turned away. He stopped trying. He stopped saving. He stopped searching for the spark that Hagoromo swore existed in humanity.
And in the silence that followed, Kurama asked himself the question that haunted him through the ages:
Was his father wrong?
Or was Kurama simply too blind, too angry, too tired to see what the Sage had seen?
Coming back to his temple did not bring comfort. It brought fury.
What had once been his last tether to Hagoromo was no longer his.
A clan of humans had claimed his temple for their own. And worse, they dared call themselves... the Kurama clan.
When Kurama learned why, his rage boiled over.
They had broken into the sealed chambers where his carvings lay. Stone walls etched with claw marks, deep furrows across pillars, and great slabs scorched with his chakra. Signs where he had tried to grasp the mystery of what Hagoromo called the Creation of All Things.
But the humans forged something he had never intended out of his thoughts.
A genjutsu that could paint fantasy into reality. A hollow echo of the Creation of All Things.
And because they believed he was the origin of their technique, they named themselves the Kurama clan.
All of this caused something inside the fox to break.
His tails tore through the temple.
Some of the humans fought. Most ran. None mattered. To him, they were defilers, parasites gnawing at the bones of his father's power and mocking his name.
By the time his fury cooled, the temple was gone.
All that remained was grief.
He curled himself among the broken pillars and asked the air if Hagoromo could see him. If the Sage would be disappointed. But no voice answered. Only silence.
And in that silence, Kurama made his choice.
Humanity could burn itself to the ground for all he cared. He would not lift a claw to stop it again.
For a time, his wish was granted. No humans came near him.
But peace never lasted in the world of men.
The first tremors came as clans swelled into villages. Shinobi started buying and selling death in the name of survival. Wars were born in every direction, and in time, eyes turned to him again.
Kumogakure sent two of their own. The Gold and Silver Brothers, shinobi who believed their village would rise higher if they claimed the fox's power. Kurama fought them, swallowed them whole, and thought it was finished.
But humans never died easily.
For two weeks they clung to life in his belly, feeding on his flesh, gnawing on the very essence of his body. Kurama could feel their persistence, their stubborn will not to vanish, and it sickened him. Eventually he regurgitated them. And when they emerged, they laughed, holding fragments of his chakra in their veins as if they had earned it.
Kurama watched them run away and felt a hatred colder than anything he had ever known.
Even swallowed whole, even broken and helpless, humans would find a way to consume and corrupt.
While Kurama brooded over whether he should hunt down the two brothers, he felt it. A ripple in the world as he came to his forest.
Madara Uchiha.
Kurama knew before he saw him. The chakra was unmistakable, drenched in the scent of Indra's bloodline.
Old grudges stirred in his chest.
"Nine-Tails. This transient form of yours is but a node of chaos. You are ignorant power, unshaped and undirected. That is why you need us. The Uchiha were always meant to guide you. You beasts are nothing without the eyes to master you."
Kurama's lips peeled back, a snarl splitting the air. The forest bent under the pressure of his chakra.
But then Madara's eyes turned, the tomoe spinning, glowing red like the heart of a furnace.
The world bent.
A genjutsu wrapped around Kurama's mind like chains.
He resisted. Oh, how he resisted. But it was like trying to claw apart the ocean. No matter how he raged, his body betrayed him. His claws ripped through forests not by his will, but by Madara's.
And in that chaos, he saw the clash of gods between Madara and Hashirama.
And then, at last, Madara fell.
For one breath, Kurama tasted freedom again.
But Hashirama stood before him, eyes heavy with something between sorrow and judgment. "Nine-Tails. Your power is too great. We cannot let you roam free."
"Who are you to decide my fate, you damned human?"
The answer never came from Hashirama's mouth. It came from the weight of reality itself. He had the strength. That was all that mattered.
Kurama was overwhelmed. His rage, his endless chakra, none of it stopped the might of Mokuton and sealing arts, until the light vanished and all that remained was a cage.
Mito Uzumaki.
"If you use your power, only hatred will come. Stay tranquil. Sleep deep inside me."
Kurama did not answer.
What was the point?
He turned his back to her voice, curling into his hatred like a blanket. Time bled into itself. Seasons shifted. Her red hair went white. And when her life finally sputtered to its end, the fox was dragged into another prison.
A new host.
This one was not like Mito. She was fierce, sharp-edged, and she carried him not as a burden to be ignored but as a weapon to be wielded.
Kurama hated her for it.
"You stupid human. I would rather rot here than be your blade."
But the seal did not care for his hatred. He was chained and crucified, his chakra siphoned no matter how much he resisted.
Kushina, unlike Mito, never tried to dress her prison in pretty words. She looked straight into his eyes and spat truth.
"Neither of us have any luck, huh? You keep the world at bay, and I keep you at bay."
Kurama recognized it. She despised being a jinchūriki as much as he despised being the beast inside her. That was the cruel joke of their bond.
It was hell. A prison within a prison.
And none of it mattered.
Kindness, honesty, hatred... it all circled back to the same truth. Humans wanted his power. They feared him, and they chained him.
After Kushina's pregnancy, Kurama felt the seal loosening. For the first time in a long time, joy surged through him.
Freedom.
But the feeling died the moment he saw him.
"You."
The masked man. The damn Sharingan, burning red in the dark.
Kurama knew that power. The same cursed technique Madara had used to chain his will. His body was stolen again, being turned into someone else's weapon. He roared as he tore through Konoha, but the sound was hollow, because it was not his.
When the genjutsu finally shattered, there was no freedom waiting for him.
The shinobi of Konoha still clung to their defiance, throwing themselves against his fury. Before Kurama could retreat, the world bent, teleportation, and the next instant, he was bound. The Uzumaki's adamantine chains wrapped around his vast form, pinning him in place.
He heard Kushina's voice, weak but steady, demanding that he be dragged back into her dying body.
Kurama almost welcomed it. Death, then rebirth, a few years of silence before he returned. Better that than this endless cycle of human control.
But the Fourth Hokage had other plans.
The Reaper's hand tore into him, splitting him apart. He felt his essence shatter as his Yin half was sealed inside Minato, while his Yang half was prepared for the body of a crying newborn.
No... No! Damn you humans. How much more indignity must I suffer?
Desperation fueled him. He lunged, aiming to kill the infant before they could turn him into a prisoned tool once again.
But they stopped him. Not with chains this time, but with flesh. Minato and Kushina used their bodies as shields. Their bloodied figures stood between him and the child.
Kurama paused because of that action. Just long enough.
The seal closed.
Darkness swallowed him, and when he opened his eyes again, he was caged inside the body of the infant.
A new jailer.
A new prison.
The same chains.
The same role.
Exploited. Used. Nothing more.
At least it was quiet. Kurama found some cold comfort in that. But the next twelve years blurred into a cycle of shallow sleeps and brief wakings, the dull consequence of having his chakra split. It was not the weakness that gnawed at him most, but the sheer monotony. A prison with no sound but his own thoughts.
Then, one day, something changed.
Kurama felt it first as a disturbance, a presence sliding into the seal. The sensation was uncanny, like standing in an empty field at night and realizing something unseen was staring at you from the dark.
He opened his eyes. Beyond the cage bars, standing upon the water of Naruto's mindscape, was the intruder.
The figure hovered just beyond the seal. Its head was swallowed by a deep hood; where no face existed, there was only a void of blackness. From its back stretched massive wings, as though an angel had descended. Its upper half was humanoid, fur running thick across its shoulders like a mantle of shadow. But below the waist, the illusion of man ended. Dozens of tendrils flowed downward instead of legs, writhing like serpents in water, curling without end.
The creature floated in silence, so profound that even Kurama's low growl seemed swallowed.
The fox bared his fangs.
"You are not my jailer," he rumbled, his voice crashing through the mindscape like thunder. His killing intent rolled outward, suffocating, the kind of force that shattered the wills of armies.
The angel did not move.
It lifted one of its six arms, and something flickered into existence.
"That's my jailer's soul," Kurama muttered, fury igniting. Then he roared. "What the hell are you doing?"
The angel produced a severed skull, its hollow sockets weeping black blood. This blood began seeping through Naruto's body, curling through the chakra pathways. It was not chakra. It was not nature energy. It was not anything Kurama had felt before.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Kurama snarled, thrashing against the bars of the Eight Trigrams Seal. "You bastard, what are you putting into the kid?!"
Still no reply.
The entity inserted the darksoul into Naruto, into his very soul.
Kurama felt it settle.
A darkness that did not roar or screech, but simply existed, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment.
Kurama's instincts screamed.
Whatever it was, it was not just dangerous. It was beyond his understanding.
Kurama waited for the boy's death.
Whatever that entity was, whatever dark poison it had injected into Naruto's body, there was no way a twelve-year-old child could survive it.
"Why are you doing this? Do you want my power too? Is that what this is? Another greedy thief trying to wear the mask of a god?" His snarl deepened. "No... you are not even human."
But the angel did not speak, flinch, or even acknowledge him.
That silence unnerved Kurama more than any shouting ever could. For decades, he had stood tall before the might of Madara Uchiha. He had raged against Hashirama Senju's forested wrath.
But this thing?
This entity cloaked in void, dripping tar-blood into the soul of a child, dwarfed them all. Red chakra bled outward, lashing toward the angel to stop whatever ritual it was weaving.
The figure only lifted one hand.
In an instant, time itself froze. The air turned to glass, still and brittle, locking Kurama in place as though the world had been buried beneath ice. Then, without hesitation, the angel grasped Naruto's soul and tore something out.
Ashura Ōtsutsuki's soul.
Kurama's eyes widened in shock. His thoughts scrambled, racing. The implications were impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, here it was before him. He watched as the angel raised Ashura's soul high. Symbols of deep violet unfurled around it, twisting like scripture written by the stars themselves.
And then, a voice. "Verily, to be summoned unto such a realm… what fate is this?"
Even frozen in time, Kurama trembled as recognition sank into his bones. He knew that voice. He knew that man.
His robes were white as moonlight, flowing behind him like clouds. Six magatama adorned his collar like silent prayers. A long braided lock of hair swung before his ear, and horned protrusions curled from his forehead. Upon his brow rested the red, spiral mark of the Third Eye.
The Sage of Six Paths had summoned.
Hagoromo's gaze drifted from Kurama to the angel, then settled on the soul of his son. His eyes narrowed. "So… thou hast taken my son's soul to summon me. Speak, stranger, what seekest thou?"
The angel gave no reply, drifting closer to the seal.
"Ah, is it my cadence? Too old for thine ears, perhaps. Then let me speak more plainly. Tell me, why use my child's spirit for this?"
But the angel did not care. It raised its hands and pressed them against the seal. In an instant, the Eight Trigram Divination Seal unraveled, its formula scattering like sand on the wind. Chakra swirled about the angel's palm.
Kurama felt it. Kushina's chakra. And strangest of all, from this terrible being, he sensed… love.
"What are you?"
The angel ignored him, crafting a new seal. Darkness spread and folded in on itself until a vast box of shadow swallowed Kurama whole. His cage replaced by another. Time lurched forward again. Kurama blinked, staring at his prison walls before letting out a bitter laugh.
"Well. When I wished for something new, I was not hoping for another damn cell."
The angel gave a sound like a snort, then turned to Hagoromo. With casual indifference, it tossed Ashura's soul into the sage's hands before stepping toward a portal shaped like the gaping jaws of some beast. Without a word, it walked inside, vanishing into the maw.
Silence lingered, heavy and suffocating. Hagoromo and Kurama looked at one another, both caught in the same thought.
What in the world had just happened?
Hagoromo drifted closer to the walls of darkness that now bound Kurama. "I did not think we would meet again like this, Kurama."
"What happened to you, Sage? How are you still here?"
"My body has long since returned to dust," Hagoromo said. "What you see is but a remnant of spirit. I endure for one purpose alone, to guard against my mother should she ever rise again."
"Then was that thing… that angel… connected to her? Was it part of the Rabbit Goddess' schemes?"
Hagoromo's face turned grave. "I do not know. Who or what that being was lies beyond me. Its intent is veiled. Yet I know this much: the boy's soul has been merged with a power not of this world. And you, Kurama, are caught within a seal that is more intricate than even the Sun and Moon formulas."
Kurama growled, pressing his massive claws against the walls of darkness. "You are saying even you cannot break it? That monster acted without effort, and now you stand here telling me you do not understand? That cannot be. You are the Sage of Six Paths."
The old sage closed his eyes. "My dear Kurama, even if I were in my prime, when I bore the power of the Ten Tails within me, I would not claim the confidence to demand answers of that being. There are heights of existence above mine. Above my mother. Perhaps even above the Ōtsutsuki. This truth I cannot ignore."
Kurama struck the wall with his claws, the sound ringing like iron. His voice was low, almost desperate. "At least tell me what this seal is for. What has it done to me?"
Hagoromo studied the shifting symbols across the box of shadow. "From what I can discern, it is not meant to consume you, nor to strip your power. It severs you from the boy's chakra network, yet it ties your souls together more intimately than before. You are not being used, Kurama. You are only… contained."
"Then why? Why cage me, if not to exploit my power? What purpose does it serve?"
"I do not know."
Kurama's fangs bared. His voice thundered through the void. "Then do you know anything at all? You are the Sage, the one who spoke of peace, the one who made us what we are. And here you are, admitting ignorance. What good is your wisdom now?"
The Sage did not flinch beneath the fury. "You are afraid."
"Afraid? You think me afraid? I have fought Uchiha Madara himself. I have seen my temple defiled and my name stolen by insects who twisted my words into weapons. I have been chained, branded, forced into cages, and sealed into infants who cry louder than battlefields. I have felt humans worship me as a god in one breath and curse me as a demon in the next. Do not speak to me of fear, Sage. I am fury. I am hatred. I am all that remains when compassion is wasted."
Hagoromo's eyes softened, as though he looked upon a child throwing a tantrum. "And yet beneath your roar, I hear the tremor. You fear that you are nothing more than what they call you. That you are only the demon they name you. That every sacrifice, every attempt to guide them, every moment you tried to live up to my dream, has been spat upon."
Kurama growled low, but did not deny it. "You speak of dreams. Look at humanity, Hagoromo. Look at what they have done. They took your ninshū, a gift to connect, and turned it into a weapon of war. They use chakra not to understand one another, but to sharpen blades and burn villages. They build clans like cages, and when those are not enough, they build villages of stone to chain themselves further. They preach loyalty, yet betray for scraps of power. They prayed to me in fear when I saved them, and they cursed me when famine struck despite my help. What do you see in them that I cannot?"
The Sage's reply was calm. "I see the same flaws you name. I do not blind myself to them. But I also see sparks among the ashes. The boy whose soul you now share, for instance. Though young, though shunned, though burdened by your presence, he still reaches toward others. He does not curse the world for what it has done to him. Instead, he seeks bonds. That is ninshū. That is the dream I left behind."
"Do not speak to me of bonds. I have felt them. Fragile, fleeting, always breaking. Tell me, Sage, what bond exists between beast and man when all they give in return is chains?"
"It is true that men are frail. They are short-lived and full of folly. Their fears make demons out of shadows. Yet it is that very fragility which gives meaning to their lives. They fail, yes, but they also try again. They fear, yet they love despite it. Their bonds are not eternal, but while they last, they give strength greater than any chakra. The world is not changed by those who hold power alone, Kurama, but by those who share their hearts despite the risk of being hurt."
"You speak like a poet, but I have lived it. And what I have seen is betrayal. I am chained because of their weakness. I am hated because of their fear. Do you expect me to forgive them?"
"I do not ask forgiveness," Hagoromo said. "I ask only that you see them as more than their flaws. The cycle of hatred has roots in pain, and you have borne more than most. Yet, Kurama, even you are not only hatred. You are my son, born of chakra, born of the hope that you would understand connection as deeply as I. If you deny them, you deny yourself."
For a long time, silence filled the prison. Kurama lowered his head, the gleam in his eyes uncertain. He wanted to roar, to tear at the walls until they shattered, but instead he whispered.
"Then tell me, Sage. If your dream is not already dead, why does it always feel like I am the one paying for it?"
"Because dreams worth carrying always demand more than we wish to give. Perhaps you will see why I never gave up on humanity."
Kurama's eyes glowed in the dark cage, two burning suns that carried centuries of bitterness. His voice was lower now, more like a growl caught between anger and resignation. "So tell me, Sage… are you disappointed in me? That I gave up on your precious humans? That I spat on the dream you gave us? That I could no longer care?"
"No, Kurama. I am not disappointed. How could I be? You have carried wounds that would break the spirit of any man. And still, despite it all, you endure. I cannot call that a failure."
"Endure? Endure is not living. Endure is not freedom. Endure is not hope. It is surviving in spite of shackles, in spite of hatred, in spite of being nothing but a weapon for men too weak to fight their own battles. You say I endure, but that is all I have ever done. And endurance feels like another name for despair."
"Perhaps it is so. But endurance is also what allows the world to change. A fire endures the wind by clinging to the smallest ember, and in time that ember grows into flame again. If you had truly given up, Kurama, you would not still question me now. You would not rage at the unfairness. Rage is proof that you still care, even if you do not wish to admit it."
"You speak as though my hatred is some hidden hope. But I tell you this, Sage… my hatred is all I have left. It is the only truth that has never betrayed me."
"And yet hatred is a chain as heavy as any seal," Hagoromo said. "You have worn it for so long that you do not notice the weight. One day, Kurama, when you meet one who bears the courage to reach through your rage and touch the truth beneath it, you will know that you are not only hatred. That is why I am not disappointed in you. I am only waiting."
Kurama let out a long, bitter laugh, shaking the walls of his new cage. "Waiting, are you? You sound as though you think some miracle child will stumble into this prison and convince me to care again. You've seen humanity, Sage. You've seen what they've done to me. Why would I ever believe in them again?"
"Because one day, Kurama, you will not have to believe in them first. One of them will believe in you."
The conversation between the Sage and the fox ended abruptly as a ring of fire carved itself into existence upon the boy's soul. It seared across the surface of Naruto's spirit like a living brand, the flame circling until it formed a perfect eclipse. Within that eclipse, the darksoul stirred and settled, as though the fire itself had chosen to chain it.
Before either Kurama or Hagoromo could speak, the pull began. Naruto's soul, and with it Kurama's, was dragged into a rift, swallowed by a void that was neither time nor space. The fox vanished, the boy vanished, and only silence remained.
Hagoromo hovered in the empty astral plane, the aftershocks still trembling in the currents of chakra. His eyes fell upon Ashura's torn soul, flickering faintly in his palm. The Sage's expression darkened as he spoke, his voice weighted with foreboding.
"I foresee that this other realm will twist the course of all things. The boy and the beast are no longer bound to the world I left behind, yet their absence will not erase their influence."
His gaze lifted toward the unseen horizon, as if sensing another presence lingering in the far distance. His tone sharpened, grave and unyielding.
"And you, my son… you no longer belong to this new world. Your soul has no place in the path that lies ahead. For the shadow of Indra still walks the earth, his vessel unbroken, his hatred unspent. Without you to temper him, the scales lean ever darker. I fear this other dimension is not a refuge, but a crucible. And what is forged within it may return to consume all."
Coming to Lordran was like dying and being remade. Kurama felt it in every fragment of his being. The tearing apart, the reshaping, the sudden stillness after chaos. Yet there was something different this time. For the first time in decades, he could see outside his jinchūriki without being filtered through dreams or forced summons. It was as if his eyes had been set in Naruto's skull, peering into a prison that was no longer only his own.
At least I won't be bored now, he thought dryly as he observed the boy stumbling through this strange new place. He watched Naruto save a wounded knight, Oscar, and then face down the towering Asylum Demon.
Kurama tested the air with his senses, reaching out in the way he always had.
"That… thing has no chakra. Not even a drop."
He widened his perception, pushing further, but the world resisted him. His awareness stuttered and buckled like a man drowning in deep water.
"This whole world has no chakra."
The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Still, he kept watching. Slowly, uneasily, Kurama began to realize he was not just a prisoner observing his jailer. Through the strange tether of Naruto's soul, he felt each clash, each jolt of impact, each step like echoes resonating in his own body.
When Naruto spoke with Oscar, Kurama noticed something else. The boy's tongue was foreign, yet the words flowed clearly into Kurama's understanding, as if the system itself bent to translate them.
Another trick of that angel? Kurama mused. Then the first Hollow shambled forward. Kurama's hackles rose immediately. There was no life in the thing. Only a wrongness, like a shadow wearing a corpse.
When Naruto struck it down, the body collapsed into nothingness, leaving behind glowing orbs. Oscar gestured toward them.
"This is a soul. Souls can be used to strengthen your abilities."
Kurama scoffed, unimpressed until the boy absorbed it.
Kurama's eyes widened. The energy didn't travel through chakra coils. It sank directly into the Darksign branded upon Naruto's soul. Kurama traced the flow, following it deeper and deeper, until he realized he was staring into an abyss that had no bottom.
"That… wasn't chakra."
For once, the great fox had no answer.
And as the boy pressed on, fighting through the undead asylum, Kurama found himself silent.
Kurama had to admit, he liked that his jailer was not an idiot. The boy had figured out how to use his shadow clones not just for fighting but for training, multiplying his effort in ways that even the fox found clever. That kind of cunning wasn't what Kurama expected from Naruto. It was promising.
And then there was the knight. Oscar.
Kurama had known countless humans across the ages, and most of them disgusted him in one way or another. But this one was different. Oscar treated Naruto with a decency that was rare, a respect that came with no fear or false reverence. Both Naruto and Kurama noticed it. Both of them appreciated it.
Kurama observed as the two of them trained together in that forsaken place. Oscar's style was foreign to Kurama's eyes, yet elegant in its simplicity.
Kurama found himself impressed despite his natural disdain. To think a human could reach this kind of precision without chakra.
He saw them fight and flee from the Asylum Demon. Kurama laughed when Naruto almost got impaled by an arrow. Then there was Naruto's first magic ring.
"You're using some cheap trinket to create footing?!" he barked, voice echoing through the boy's subconscious. "You're a shinobi, damn it! Learn a proper technique!"
But Naruto couldn't hear him yet.
Then came the moment that silenced Kurama.
Naruto caught a glimpse of his reflection, and the hollowed appearance of the boy made the fox stop cold. "...That isn't right."
And then Oscar said it. "Naruto, you're not from this world."
Kurama's ears perked. "...Not from this world?"
The thought chilled him deeper than anything else.
He had once believed chakra was the foundation of all things. That no world could exist without it. But now, watching this strange place full of monsters and madness, of souls instead of chakra, he realized something terrifying. This world didn't need chakra. And yet, somehow, it had Naruto.
"...Why did that angel send you here?"
He had no answer.
Later, Kurama sat silently as Oscar spoke of the Age of Ancients, of the Age of Fire, of the Lords and their war against the Everlasting Dragons.
Kurama narrowed his eyes, tail swaying behind him in thought. The war. The first fire. The disparity of time. The chosen undead… It all sounded mythic. Familiar in a way Kurama couldn't quite place, but disturbing too. He thought about the angel, that grotesque, impossible thing that had placed the Dark Soul in Naruto. And suddenly, something Oscar said clicked.
"...The Furtive Pygmy…"
Kurama's ears twitched.
"You've got to be kidding me. That thing was the Pygmy?" he muttered, trying to wrap his head around it. "No. No, I don't like where this is going."
Just then, Naruto picked up the Pyromancy Flame and Kurama jolted. A flicker of twisted fire ignited within Naruto's mindscape.
"For the love of the Sage, stop jamming every weird relic into your body, you reckless dumbass!" Kurama shouted.
The pyromancy flame spread its influence across Naruto's mindscape as creeping vines wrapped around the strange ember that had taken root within the boy's soul.
The moment Kurama extended his senses toward it, he regretted it. This was no ordinary fire. Beneath the chaos and the hunger, he felt something older, something that reminded him of the life force at the heart of all creation. A shard of the life soul itself, burning endlessly, gnawing at everything around it. And the strangest part was how it reacted to chakra. The fire didn't resist it. It welcomed it. Chakra was nothing more than kindling, fuel to be devoured, twisted, and reshaped into something unrecognizable.
Kurama shuddered, though he would never admit it aloud. Instinct howled at him. If not for the barrier of darkness that now cocooned him, he would already have been consumed, reduced to ash within this inferno.
The fox tore his gaze away from the ember, suppressing the unease rising in his chest. That thing was dangerous beyond comprehension. He did not want to think about what it meant for Naruto or for himself.
So instead, Kurama turned his attention outward, to the boy and his strange knight teacher. He watched through Naruto's eyes as they plunged into the broken courtyard of the asylum.
Kurama watched intently until Naruto got flattened like a pancake.
Kurama flinched.
Then blinked.
And blinked again.
Because now they were suddenly back in the Elemental Nations, standing face to face with some white-haired bastard spouting Jinchūriki secrets like it was a school assembly.
Kurama howled with laughter when Naruto thought he was a demon. He watched the boy kill Mizuki, then start talking to the Third Hokage. Kurama lost interest soon after and dozed off until Naruto used the Darksign again.
When he woke up and realized Naruto could actually return to Lordran, Kurama blinked in surprise. "Wait... it's not a one-way trip? Huh. That changes things."
He stayed quiet during Naruto's farewell to Oscar.
There were few humans Kurama would ever admit to respecting, but this strange knight had left an impression. Oscar's dignity, his calm in the face of despair, lingered like an echo. Yet the boy believed him dead. Still, the thought gnawed at Kurama.
Was the knight truly gone? Or would his story continue in some twisted form?
Kurama had no answers, and no way of tempting the boy into asking them. All he could do was watch.
So he watched as Naruto hurled himself once more into the battle with the Asylum Demon.
Kurama felt the boy's anger, his desperation, his wild willpower surging like fire through veins too small to hold it. The fight was brutal, savage, each strike a defiance against a foe that should have crushed him. And against his own better judgment, Kurama found himself caught up in it.
"Yes! Fuck him up!"
"Break his ugly hammer!"
The words tore from his throat as Kurama watched with a smile while the Asylum Demon was killed.
"You did it, brat! You actually—" Kurama stopped, ears flattening.
Wait. What was he doing?
He stared in silence, the realization settling like a stone in his gut.
Was he… cheering for the boy? No. Just momentary entertainment to fight the boredom.
But even as he turned away into the shadows of the cage, his tail flicked with a restless rhythm, betraying him… as Naruto escaped the Black Knight, buried his friend, and took his first steps into Lordran.
Kurama didn't go back to sleep.
For the first time in decades, one of his hosts was actually interesting. Not because Naruto was special, but because the world he was tangled in was downright insane. And frankly, watching the kid get smacked around in brutal, creative ways was good entertainment.
When Naruto met that priest-looking idiot, Petrus, Kurama let out a low growl.
"Oh great, another god. Just what we need. If you're going to keep collecting divine nonsense, you could at least free me, you inconsiderate gnat," Kurama muttered.
He watched as Naruto was baptized into the Way of White, a white ring forming around his soul like a glowing leash.
A branding mark, probably. Something to say property of the gods. Kurama snorted.
Then came the graveyard.
Watching Naruto get torn apart by skeletons over and over again was like watching someone try to fight a blender with a toothpick. Hilarious and somehow tragic.
Kurama tilted his head, amused, as Naruto used souls to level up. The sight of the Darksign glowing, absorbing energy and pumping it through the boy's soul, made the fox's hackles rise.
"Forbidden technique? Ancient soul magic? Who even cares anymore," Kurama said. "At least it's working."
Then Naruto jumped off a cliff to return to Konoha.
Kurama rolled over in his cage and muttered, "Idiot," before going to sleep.
That became their rhythm.
In Konoha, Kurama napped.
In Lordran, he watched Naruto die.
Simple. Efficient. Weirdly satisfying.
Until the Black Knight.
Watching Naruto try to learn from the Black Knight was like watching a toddler try to teach themselves algebra by punching the chalkboard. The number of deaths? Countless. The level of suffering? Glorious.
It was like someone flicking the lights on and off in a dark room. Kurama wasn't directly affected, but oh god, was it annoying.
When Naruto finally killed the knight, Kurama muttered, "About time, you stubborn little dung beetle. Hope it was worth the brain damage."
Then came the Taurus Demon.
Naruto died. Again.
Kurama yawned. "Good riddance."
When Naruto returned and tried to befriend a tiny crystal lizard, Kurama felt genuine curiosity. The creature was unlike anything he had ever sensed. Its body shimmered with crystallized soul fragments, and beneath that brilliance lurked a strange darkness.
Kurama leaned forward in his cage, ears twitching. "What are you, little thing?"
He was fascinated, so much so that he almost forgot about the brat holding it. Watching the crystal lizard was like staring at a riddle given flesh. In time, though, his attention drifted. Through Naruto, he observed more and more of this world, and in doing so, his jailer's memories bled into his awareness.
When he learned of the Uchiha massacre, Kurama laughed, his tails shaking the prison with mirth. "Ha! Finally, a human with some sense. Itachi, eh? I'll remember that name. The Uchiha killer. My favorite mortal so far."
Naruto, of course, remained oblivious. He only smiled at the lizard and, with childlike reverence, named it Oscar after the knight who had saved him.
Kurama didn't know why, but a small smile tugged at his snout. He didn't fight it.
For a while, he allowed himself to drift into slumber. But his peace shattered when his senses screamed awake. Naruto was experimenting with the pyromancy flame. Kurama watched, ears high, as the brat coaxed a flicker of life out of the ember. For a few heartbeats, something demonic and raw shambled into existence.
And then it crumbled.
"Hnh. I wonder if he'd get better results with nature energy," the demon fox grumbled, settling back down to rest. But the truth gnawed at him. Naruto was reckless, foolish, and infuriating, but more than any jailer before him, he was… entertaining.
Fun to watch. Even fun to watch die.
Kurama's snout curled in the ghost of another smile as he drifted back into sleep.
Everything was going great until the Zabuza fight.
Kurama was fairly surprised by how much Naruto had grown, and he liked the fact that his container was strong. But during the battle, Naruto was put in a position where, accidentally, he poured chakra straight into the Chaos Flame.
Kurama sat bolt upright as the fire in the mindscape twisted, convulsed, and turned into wood.
Vines erupted through Naruto's right arm, gnarled and smoldering, glowing with ember veins. And the vines had eyes. Dozens. Blinking. Staring straight at him.
Kurama froze.
"...There goes my sleep," he muttered.
The vines blinked back.
"Damn you, Naruto."
Lordran, for once, seemed to offer Kurama a sense of justice—or so the fox liked to believe. He watched Naruto get hunted down by a Black Knight wielding a greatshield. He saw the boy meet Siegmeyer and Andre, watched him travel through the Darkroot Garden and Basin.
When Naruto grappled with his ideals as a knight, Kurama paid attention. Tsunami's nihilistic ramblings irked him. Kurama didn't tolerate weak-minded fatalism.
Naruto's response? Kill the gangs. Clean the rot. No grand speeches. Just action.
Kurama grinned. "Now that's how you fix a problem. Chop it down."
He didn't realize it at first, but watching Naruto in Lordran made him… invested.
More than he ever wanted to be.
Watching the boy train for Gato's forces.
Watching him take down the Moonlight Butterfly with Beatrice.
Watching him train under Andre, learn magic, crawl through the Valley of Drakes.
Kurama laughed—giggled, really—when Naruto grafted the soul of a hawk and gained sharp golden hawk eyes.
"If he grafted a fox soul," Kurama muttered, "would he grow ears? A tail?"
He snorted.
He was entertaining himself now.
The true moment of joy, though, came during Naruto's fight with Kakashi. The way the copy ninja's expression crumbled when Naruto came at him like a one-man army.
Kurama howled with laughter in his cell.
But the fun didn't last.
Kakashi's betrayal hit harder than expected. Kurama watched it unfold silently, the laughter gone. He saw the betrayal not just as Naruto's teacher turning on him, but as proof.
Humans never change. Even now, even after centuries, they still hide behind rules and fear when faced with something they can't understand.
Kurama waited for Naruto to lose it.
To burn it all down.
That's what he would've done. What he had done.
And Naruto was angry. He fought the Capra Demon like a feral beast. He experienced the death of the Undead Merchant. But afterward, he said something that caught Kurama off guard.
"I'm going back to the Wave Country. I'm going to look Kakashi in the eye... and ask him why."
A beat passed.
Naruto's fists clenched lightly. "No more silence. No more guessing. I need the truth."
He looked at Oscar.
"Whatever happens next... we face it together. Sound good?"
Kurama snarled. "Fool. He'll lie."
But the fox knew the truth. That deep desire to understand… it was familiar. Too familiar.
Kurama began to wonder: Would Naruto try to understand me? Would he still see me for what I am? For what I've done to his parents, to him?
He growled and turned away from the thought. When did I start caring?
He watched the boy clash with the Black Knight and its halberd. He watched the lame fight with the Hydra. Lordran never slowed, and neither did Naruto.
Then came the cursed seal. The offer of the dragon's power.
Kurama watched Naruto hesitate. "Damn it, brat," he muttered. "You trying to make this permanent? I'm supposed to be your ultimate weapon, not some damned reptile. Why the hell do you want to be a dragon instead of asking me for power?"
A humorless laugh rumbled through his chest. So many people had craved his strength. And here was Naruto, the only human Kurama had ever truly wanted to give it to, hesitating.
Then the presence came.
Havel.
Even sealed within Naruto, Kurama felt the weight of that aura: space bending, crushing, like gravity given form. His hackles rose. It rivaled Hashirama. It rivaled Madara.
"Brat… you're in danger."
And then Kurama saw: Havel wasn't moving toward Naruto. He was coming for Oscar. Naruto fought, but against someone like that he was an ant pushing against a mountain.
"I can't…" the boy whispered, shaking. "I can't protect anyone like this."
Kurama's claws scraped the bars of his cage. "Move, you damn brat! Move!"
But Naruto wasn't listening. His hand closed around the cursed seal.
"I promised Gato I'd show him what a true monster looked like," Naruto muttered. "Guess I wasn't lying after all."
Kurama watched grimly as Naruto pressed the curse mark against the dragon scale. Nothing happened.
Of course it didn't. The mark was crude, an incomplete vessel for storing nature energy. Even fully realized, Kurama doubted it could touch something as ancient and absolute as the bloodline of an everlasting dragon.
They needed something far greater. Something on another level entirely.
Oscar's fear trickled faintly into the fox's senses. Naruto's desperation blazed hotter. Kurama slammed his chakra against the black walls of his prison, snarling as sparks of crimson lightning crackled across the void. He clawed at the cage, tried to hurl even a fragment of himself toward the boy.
Nothing.
"Damn you, angel!" Kurama roared at the void. "Let me help him!"
Naruto's trembling hands raised the Estus Flask. Golden fire spilled down his throat, knitting torn muscle, binding broken bone.
But Kurama felt something else ignite.
The chaos vines coiled around Naruto's mindscape shivered. Twitched. Then burned. Kurama's ears pricked, his senses sharpened to steel. Naruto's chakra had sparked them like dry kindling.
And then the flame answered.
The chaos flame in the boy's right arm flared alive, drawn to the dragon's bloodline. The shard of the Life Soul buried within it stirred, a dark heart beginning to beat. Kurama felt it seeping into Naruto; corrupting, remaking, transforming.
The boy was becoming something else.
An everlasting dragon.
The vines lashed outward, their heat slamming against Kurama's prison. The fox recoiled, then blinked in shock. The sealing knot the angel had woven, that impossible binding of darkness, was burning away.
He was getting free.
A wild laugh tore from his throat. At last. He could finally stand beside the brat; tear Havel apart fang by fang, and fight with him. He readied himself to burst forth then stopped.
Naruto's body was only half-changed, trapped between boy and dragon. His chakra was too small, too thin. If the fire guttered out now, he would die from madness.
Kurama stilled. The choice stared back at him.
Slowly, he remembered his father's voice. Because dreams worth carrying always demand more than we wish to give.
"Father," he whispered, "I think I've found what you saw in humanity. I think I've found it in this boy. And I… I want to fight for it."
He inhaled once more then gave.
His chakra flooded the chaos fire, reigniting it, holding it steady. Agony ripped through him as the blaze devoured his essence. It was like being burned alive from the inside out, each tail unraveling into embers.
For an instant, he wondered was this the angel's plan all along? To keep him as fuel, a sacrifice for the boy's ascension?
He didn't care.
Naruto was mortal. Fragile. Infuriating. And yet, in the endless dark, he had been Kurama's first spark. Even as his chakra crumbled, the fox grinned through bared fangs.
"Heh-heh… brat… guess you're not human anymore. I wonder, with your new eyes… what you'll think of me?"
And for the first time in centuries, the thought made him smile. If Naruto truly became an everlasting dragon, then perhaps—just perhaps—Kurama had found a friend who could walk beside him, beyond the fleeting breath of human life.
It took more than a minute. Naruto's body writhed between human and dragon. Kurama roared as his chakra burned away, stoking the chaos flame, keeping it alive when it should have guttered out.
And then Havel moved, helping Naruto finish his dragon ascension.
With Havel's actions and Kurama's efforts, the change was sealed.
When the light faded, Naruto stood tall. His form was wreathed in scales that shimmered like obsidian laced with magma.
Kurama slumped inside the boy's mindscape, smoke rising from his fur. His body felt thin, hollow… his chakra nearly drained to ash. He should have cursed. Should have growled at the unfairness of it all.
Instead, he stared.
For the first time in all his long life, Kurama felt something he could only call beautiful.
That boy now stood as something eternal. A being beyond time, beyond human frailty.
Kurama's muzzle curled into a smile.
"Next time… when I reform… I want to meet you again, brat. Not as your prisoner. Not as your burden. Just… as me."
He closed his eyes, and a softness came to his face that hadn't been there for centuries.
"I wonder how much you'll have grown when we meet again. Maybe next time… you will be strong enough to stand beside me as an equal."
His body began to turn to vapor.
"Even if I vanish now… I'll still carry this. You changed something in me. You made me remember what it felt like to care. To hope."
A last breath.
A final thought, cast into the silence of Lordran: When will the dragon and the fox meet again?
Author's Note:
And that wraps up the Kurama POV! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know a lot of you were expecting something different from this chapter. I've actually gotten a bunch of messages asking if Kurama would go off on his own adventure, like wandering into Astora or something. Honestly, that would have been cool, but I have a story to tell, and this was always the path I wanted for him. I hope you still found it enjoyable.
Now, let's jump into the Q&A.
Q: Who is the Angel?
…(crickets)
Did you really think I was going to answer that right now? No. The Angel is one of the most mysterious figures in the story, and they do not properly come into play until the later half. So no identity reveal yet.
Here is a little hint: Kushina is connected to the Angel in some way, shape, or form.
Q: Is the Angel stronger than prime Hagoromo?
Yes. That is basically confirmed in the chapter already. The Angel casually stopped time. So yes, they are definitely one of the strongest characters I have planned for this story.
Q: Why did you add the Kurama Clan into Kurama's backstory?
Good question. For those who do not know, the Kurama Clan is a filler-only clan from the anime. They are extremely skilled in genjutsu, thanks to their kekkei genkai. Once every few generations, someone is born with such overwhelming genjutsu ability that their illusions literally become real, basically letting them kill with genjutsu.
So why connect them to the Nine-Tails Kurama?
Honestly, because I have always loved that filler arc. The Kurama Clan was one of my favorite additions in the anime, and I always thought they were cool. Since canon already has the Kaguya Clan, connected to Kaguya herself, I always assumed the Kurama Clan must have been named after the Kyuubi. And since foxes in folklore are known for illusions, the connection felt natural.
What you saw in this chapter was me adding lore and worldbuilding to tie that filler-only clan into the main mythos. The Kurama Clan's ability to turn genjutsu into reality is kind of like a knockoff version of Hagoromo's Creation of All Things Jutsu. To reconcile their broken ability, I connected it back to the Sage in the lore, but made it clear it is only an imitation.
And that is the important Q&A for this chapter.
If you have more questions, feel free to ask. I will happily answer.
Let me know what you thought about Kurama's characterization and development here. Did you like his reactions to Lordran? Also, when do you want Naruto and Kurama to actually meet face-to-face again?
That's It… For Now.
And if you can't wait for the next update, the next chapter drops on Oct 7th! You can read ahead to Chapter 104 on Patreon.
As always, I want to thank you all for taking the time to read, comment, and follow along with this story. Your feedback means more than you know, and it helps push me to make each chapter bigger, sharper, and more true to the worlds of Naruto and Dark Souls.
Until next time, Be safe, friend. Don't you dare go Hollow..
—Adam
Kurama's first memory was not of the world, but of himself.
He opened his eyes to endless darkness, only to realize that the darkness was not the sky or the earth, but his own shadow stretched out across the land. His body was vast. His tails churned behind him like storms. Every step he took made the ground groan, every breath he drew seemed to shake the air. He was alive, yet already burdened with the truth that his existence would never be small. He was too large, too loud, too powerful to ever belong.
To him, Hagoromo was not just the Sage of Six Paths. He was a father. The one who named him, who taught him, who spoke to him as though he were more than a mass of chakra and teeth. Kurama cherished that bond, but it also weighed heavily on him. He wanted to live up to it. He wanted to be the proof that the Sage's dream of Ninshu was not in vain.
Unlike his brothers and sisters, Kurama did not hunger for power alone. He sought understanding. Where others used their chakra as raw might, Kurama honed his in another way. He learned to feel the hearts of humans. He stretched his chakra into the air, the soil, the space between people, and discovered that human hearts always beat in rhythm with something unseen. Hope, fear, anger, love. These were currents he could sense, as real to him as the tides of the sea.
When Hagoromo's time neared its end, he gave Kurama a duty. A temple, and the responsibility to guide the humans who gathered there. Kurama accepted. He sat beneath the stone eaves, the humans kneeling before him with trembling hands and wary eyes. He felt their fear, but bore it in silence. He told himself it did not matter.
What mattered was the Sage's dream.
What mattered was Ninshu.
If these humans could learn, if they could understand, perhaps one day his father's faith would be justified.
But humans are fragile and short-lived.
Kurama watched them grow old. He watched them wither and return to the earth while children took their place. He watched whole generations rise and fall like waves. Their lives burned quickly, but not brightly. For all their fleeting time, they wasted so much of it in conflict.
They quarreled over borders. They killed over food. They fought over pride. And when Hagoromo's gift of chakra spread among them, instead of using it to understand each other, they sharpened it into weapons.
That was the moment Kurama broke.
His voice rattled the stones of his temple. How dare they. How dare these ungrateful creatures sully his father's dream. Chakra was meant to connect. Chakra was meant to heal. It was supposed to be the bridge that ended loneliness. And yet they bent it toward slaughter and conquest, spilling blood with the very thing that was meant to bring them peace.
Kurama's anger burned hotter than fire. He left the temple behind.
He wandered. He sought to understand what his father had seen in these humans. Perhaps he had missed something. But wherever he went, disappointment followed.
He crossed barren deserts, only to see villages turn their faces away in terror. He carried food into famine-stricken lands, only for the survivors to call him a harbinger of disaster. He frightened away bandits who preyed on the weak, and those very same weak raised trembling hands toward the heavens, praying in fear that the beast wouldn't devour them next.
Kurama did not know when the name began, but soon it spread from mouth to mouth like fire in dry grass.
Demon.
Monster.
Calamity.
A beast of ill omen who appeared only when ruin was near.
And all Kurama felt was anger.
For centuries, he bore their fear. For centuries, he endured their whispers. He saved them from storms, from earthquakes, from enemies, and they spat his name as though he was the one who brought such things upon them. The longer it went on, the more that anger curdled into something heavier.
Apathy.
If they would always see him as a demon, then why should he care for them? If they would curse him no matter what he did, then why bother at all?
So he turned away. He stopped trying. He stopped saving. He stopped searching for the spark that Hagoromo swore existed in humanity.
And in the silence that followed, Kurama asked himself the question that haunted him through the ages:
Was his father wrong?
Or was Kurama simply too blind, too angry, too tired to see what the Sage had seen?
Coming back to his temple did not bring comfort. It brought fury.
What had once been his last tether to Hagoromo was no longer his.
A clan of humans had claimed his temple for their own. And worse, they dared call themselves... the Kurama clan.
When Kurama learned why, his rage boiled over.
They had broken into the sealed chambers where his carvings lay. Stone walls etched with claw marks, deep furrows across pillars, and great slabs scorched with his chakra. Signs where he had tried to grasp the mystery of what Hagoromo called the Creation of All Things.
But the humans forged something he had never intended out of his thoughts.
A genjutsu that could paint fantasy into reality. A hollow echo of the Creation of All Things.
And because they believed he was the origin of their technique, they named themselves the Kurama clan.
All of this caused something inside the fox to break.
His tails tore through the temple.
Some of the humans fought. Most ran. None mattered. To him, they were defilers, parasites gnawing at the bones of his father's power and mocking his name.
By the time his fury cooled, the temple was gone.
All that remained was grief.
He curled himself among the broken pillars and asked the air if Hagoromo could see him. If the Sage would be disappointed. But no voice answered. Only silence.
And in that silence, Kurama made his choice.
Humanity could burn itself to the ground for all he cared. He would not lift a claw to stop it again.
For a time, his wish was granted. No humans came near him.
But peace never lasted in the world of men.
The first tremors came as clans swelled into villages. Shinobi started buying and selling death in the name of survival. Wars were born in every direction, and in time, eyes turned to him again.
Kumogakure sent two of their own. The Gold and Silver Brothers, shinobi who believed their village would rise higher if they claimed the fox's power. Kurama fought them, swallowed them whole, and thought it was finished.
But humans never died easily.
For two weeks they clung to life in his belly, feeding on his flesh, gnawing on the very essence of his body. Kurama could feel their persistence, their stubborn will not to vanish, and it sickened him. Eventually he regurgitated them. And when they emerged, they laughed, holding fragments of his chakra in their veins as if they had earned it.
Kurama watched them run away and felt a hatred colder than anything he had ever known.
Even swallowed whole, even broken and helpless, humans would find a way to consume and corrupt.
While Kurama brooded over whether he should hunt down the two brothers, he felt it. A ripple in the world as he came to his forest.
Madara Uchiha.
Kurama knew before he saw him. The chakra was unmistakable, drenched in the scent of Indra's bloodline.
Old grudges stirred in his chest.
"Nine-Tails. This transient form of yours is but a node of chaos. You are ignorant power, unshaped and undirected. That is why you need us. The Uchiha were always meant to guide you. You beasts are nothing without the eyes to master you."
Kurama's lips peeled back, a snarl splitting the air. The forest bent under the pressure of his chakra.
But then Madara's eyes turned, the tomoe spinning, glowing red like the heart of a furnace.
The world bent.
A genjutsu wrapped around Kurama's mind like chains.
He resisted. Oh, how he resisted. But it was like trying to claw apart the ocean. No matter how he raged, his body betrayed him. His claws ripped through forests not by his will, but by Madara's.
And in that chaos, he saw the clash of gods between Madara and Hashirama.
And then, at last, Madara fell.
For one breath, Kurama tasted freedom again.
But Hashirama stood before him, eyes heavy with something between sorrow and judgment. "Nine-Tails. Your power is too great. We cannot let you roam free."
"Who are you to decide my fate, you damned human?"
The answer never came from Hashirama's mouth. It came from the weight of reality itself. He had the strength. That was all that mattered.
Kurama was overwhelmed. His rage, his endless chakra, none of it stopped the might of Mokuton and sealing arts, until the light vanished and all that remained was a cage.
Mito Uzumaki.
"If you use your power, only hatred will come. Stay tranquil. Sleep deep inside me."
Kurama did not answer.
What was the point?
He turned his back to her voice, curling into his hatred like a blanket. Time bled into itself. Seasons shifted. Her red hair went white. And when her life finally sputtered to its end, the fox was dragged into another prison.
A new host.
This one was not like Mito. She was fierce, sharp-edged, and she carried him not as a burden to be ignored but as a weapon to be wielded.
Kurama hated her for it.
"You stupid human. I would rather rot here than be your blade."
But the seal did not care for his hatred. He was chained and crucified, his chakra siphoned no matter how much he resisted.
Kushina, unlike Mito, never tried to dress her prison in pretty words. She looked straight into his eyes and spat truth.
"Neither of us have any luck, huh? You keep the world at bay, and I keep you at bay."
Kurama recognized it. She despised being a jinchūriki as much as he despised being the beast inside her. That was the cruel joke of their bond.
It was hell. A prison within a prison.
And none of it mattered.
Kindness, honesty, hatred... it all circled back to the same truth. Humans wanted his power. They feared him, and they chained him.
After Kushina's pregnancy, Kurama felt the seal loosening. For the first time in a long time, joy surged through him.
Freedom.
But the feeling died the moment he saw him.
"You."
The masked man. The damn Sharingan, burning red in the dark.
Kurama knew that power. The same cursed technique Madara had used to chain his will. His body was stolen again, being turned into someone else's weapon. He roared as he tore through Konoha, but the sound was hollow, because it was not his.
When the genjutsu finally shattered, there was no freedom waiting for him.
The shinobi of Konoha still clung to their defiance, throwing themselves against his fury. Before Kurama could retreat, the world bent, teleportation, and the next instant, he was bound. The Uzumaki's adamantine chains wrapped around his vast form, pinning him in place.
He heard Kushina's voice, weak but steady, demanding that he be dragged back into her dying body.
Kurama almost welcomed it. Death, then rebirth, a few years of silence before he returned. Better that than this endless cycle of human control.
But the Fourth Hokage had other plans.
The Reaper's hand tore into him, splitting him apart. He felt his essence shatter as his Yin half was sealed inside Minato, while his Yang half was prepared for the body of a crying newborn.
No... No! Damn you humans. How much more indignity must I suffer?
Desperation fueled him. He lunged, aiming to kill the infant before they could turn him into a prisoned tool once again.
But they stopped him. Not with chains this time, but with flesh. Minato and Kushina used their bodies as shields. Their bloodied figures stood between him and the child.
Kurama paused because of that action. Just long enough.
The seal closed.
Darkness swallowed him, and when he opened his eyes again, he was caged inside the body of the infant.
A new jailer.
A new prison.
The same chains.
The same role.
Exploited. Used. Nothing more.
At least it was quiet. Kurama found some cold comfort in that. But the next twelve years blurred into a cycle of shallow sleeps and brief wakings, the dull consequence of having his chakra split. It was not the weakness that gnawed at him most, but the sheer monotony. A prison with no sound but his own thoughts.
Then, one day, something changed.
Kurama felt it first as a disturbance, a presence sliding into the seal. The sensation was uncanny, like standing in an empty field at night and realizing something unseen was staring at you from the dark.
He opened his eyes. Beyond the cage bars, standing upon the water of Naruto's mindscape, was the intruder.
The figure hovered just beyond the seal. Its head was swallowed by a deep hood; where no face existed, there was only a void of blackness. From its back stretched massive wings, as though an angel had descended. Its upper half was humanoid, fur running thick across its shoulders like a mantle of shadow. But below the waist, the illusion of man ended. Dozens of tendrils flowed downward instead of legs, writhing like serpents in water, curling without end.
The creature floated in silence, so profound that even Kurama's low growl seemed swallowed.
The fox bared his fangs.
"You are not my jailer," he rumbled, his voice crashing through the mindscape like thunder. His killing intent rolled outward, suffocating, the kind of force that shattered the wills of armies.
The angel did not move.
It lifted one of its six arms, and something flickered into existence.
"That's my jailer's soul," Kurama muttered, fury igniting. Then he roared. "What the hell are you doing?"
The angel produced a severed skull, its hollow sockets weeping black blood. This blood began seeping through Naruto's body, curling through the chakra pathways. It was not chakra. It was not nature energy. It was not anything Kurama had felt before.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Kurama snarled, thrashing against the bars of the Eight Trigrams Seal. "You bastard, what are you putting into the kid?!"
Still no reply.
The entity inserted the darksoul into Naruto, into his very soul.
Kurama felt it settle.
A darkness that did not roar or screech, but simply existed, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment.
Kurama's instincts screamed.
Whatever it was, it was not just dangerous. It was beyond his understanding.
Kurama waited for the boy's death.
Whatever that entity was, whatever dark poison it had injected into Naruto's body, there was no way a twelve-year-old child could survive it.
"Why are you doing this? Do you want my power too? Is that what this is? Another greedy thief trying to wear the mask of a god?" His snarl deepened. "No... you are not even human."
But the angel did not speak, flinch, or even acknowledge him.
That silence unnerved Kurama more than any shouting ever could. For decades, he had stood tall before the might of Madara Uchiha. He had raged against Hashirama Senju's forested wrath.
But this thing?
This entity cloaked in void, dripping tar-blood into the soul of a child, dwarfed them all. Red chakra bled outward, lashing toward the angel to stop whatever ritual it was weaving.
The figure only lifted one hand.
In an instant, time itself froze. The air turned to glass, still and brittle, locking Kurama in place as though the world had been buried beneath ice. Then, without hesitation, the angel grasped Naruto's soul and tore something out.
Ashura Ōtsutsuki's soul.
Kurama's eyes widened in shock. His thoughts scrambled, racing. The implications were impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, here it was before him. He watched as the angel raised Ashura's soul high. Symbols of deep violet unfurled around it, twisting like scripture written by the stars themselves.
And then, a voice. "Verily, to be summoned unto such a realm… what fate is this?"
Even frozen in time, Kurama trembled as recognition sank into his bones. He knew that voice. He knew that man.
His robes were white as moonlight, flowing behind him like clouds. Six magatama adorned his collar like silent prayers. A long braided lock of hair swung before his ear, and horned protrusions curled from his forehead. Upon his brow rested the red, spiral mark of the Third Eye.
The Sage of Six Paths had summoned.
Hagoromo's gaze drifted from Kurama to the angel, then settled on the soul of his son. His eyes narrowed. "So… thou hast taken my son's soul to summon me. Speak, stranger, what seekest thou?"
The angel gave no reply, drifting closer to the seal.
"Ah, is it my cadence? Too old for thine ears, perhaps. Then let me speak more plainly. Tell me, why use my child's spirit for this?"
But the angel did not care. It raised its hands and pressed them against the seal. In an instant, the Eight Trigram Divination Seal unraveled, its formula scattering like sand on the wind. Chakra swirled about the angel's palm.
Kurama felt it. Kushina's chakra. And strangest of all, from this terrible being, he sensed… love.
"What are you?"
The angel ignored him, crafting a new seal. Darkness spread and folded in on itself until a vast box of shadow swallowed Kurama whole. His cage replaced by another. Time lurched forward again. Kurama blinked, staring at his prison walls before letting out a bitter laugh.
"Well. When I wished for something new, I was not hoping for another damn cell."
The angel gave a sound like a snort, then turned to Hagoromo. With casual indifference, it tossed Ashura's soul into the sage's hands before stepping toward a portal shaped like the gaping jaws of some beast. Without a word, it walked inside, vanishing into the maw.
Silence lingered, heavy and suffocating. Hagoromo and Kurama looked at one another, both caught in the same thought.
What in the world had just happened?
Hagoromo drifted closer to the walls of darkness that now bound Kurama. "I did not think we would meet again like this, Kurama."
"What happened to you, Sage? How are you still here?"
"My body has long since returned to dust," Hagoromo said. "What you see is but a remnant of spirit. I endure for one purpose alone, to guard against my mother should she ever rise again."
"Then was that thing… that angel… connected to her? Was it part of the Rabbit Goddess' schemes?"
Hagoromo's face turned grave. "I do not know. Who or what that being was lies beyond me. Its intent is veiled. Yet I know this much: the boy's soul has been merged with a power not of this world. And you, Kurama, are caught within a seal that is more intricate than even the Sun and Moon formulas."
Kurama growled, pressing his massive claws against the walls of darkness. "You are saying even you cannot break it? That monster acted without effort, and now you stand here telling me you do not understand? That cannot be. You are the Sage of Six Paths."
The old sage closed his eyes. "My dear Kurama, even if I were in my prime, when I bore the power of the Ten Tails within me, I would not claim the confidence to demand answers of that being. There are heights of existence above mine. Above my mother. Perhaps even above the Ōtsutsuki. This truth I cannot ignore."
Kurama struck the wall with his claws, the sound ringing like iron. His voice was low, almost desperate. "At least tell me what this seal is for. What has it done to me?"
Hagoromo studied the shifting symbols across the box of shadow. "From what I can discern, it is not meant to consume you, nor to strip your power. It severs you from the boy's chakra network, yet it ties your souls together more intimately than before. You are not being used, Kurama. You are only… contained."
"Then why? Why cage me, if not to exploit my power? What purpose does it serve?"
"I do not know."
Kurama's fangs bared. His voice thundered through the void. "Then do you know anything at all? You are the Sage, the one who spoke of peace, the one who made us what we are. And here you are, admitting ignorance. What good is your wisdom now?"
The Sage did not flinch beneath the fury. "You are afraid."
"Afraid? You think me afraid? I have fought Uchiha Madara himself. I have seen my temple defiled and my name stolen by insects who twisted my words into weapons. I have been chained, branded, forced into cages, and sealed into infants who cry louder than battlefields. I have felt humans worship me as a god in one breath and curse me as a demon in the next. Do not speak to me of fear, Sage. I am fury. I am hatred. I am all that remains when compassion is wasted."
Hagoromo's eyes softened, as though he looked upon a child throwing a tantrum. "And yet beneath your roar, I hear the tremor. You fear that you are nothing more than what they call you. That you are only the demon they name you. That every sacrifice, every attempt to guide them, every moment you tried to live up to my dream, has been spat upon."
Kurama growled low, but did not deny it. "You speak of dreams. Look at humanity, Hagoromo. Look at what they have done. They took your ninshū, a gift to connect, and turned it into a weapon of war. They use chakra not to understand one another, but to sharpen blades and burn villages. They build clans like cages, and when those are not enough, they build villages of stone to chain themselves further. They preach loyalty, yet betray for scraps of power. They prayed to me in fear when I saved them, and they cursed me when famine struck despite my help. What do you see in them that I cannot?"
The Sage's reply was calm. "I see the same flaws you name. I do not blind myself to them. But I also see sparks among the ashes. The boy whose soul you now share, for instance. Though young, though shunned, though burdened by your presence, he still reaches toward others. He does not curse the world for what it has done to him. Instead, he seeks bonds. That is ninshū. That is the dream I left behind."
"Do not speak to me of bonds. I have felt them. Fragile, fleeting, always breaking. Tell me, Sage, what bond exists between beast and man when all they give in return is chains?"
"It is true that men are frail. They are short-lived and full of folly. Their fears make demons out of shadows. Yet it is that very fragility which gives meaning to their lives. They fail, yes, but they also try again. They fear, yet they love despite it. Their bonds are not eternal, but while they last, they give strength greater than any chakra. The world is not changed by those who hold power alone, Kurama, but by those who share their hearts despite the risk of being hurt."
"You speak like a poet, but I have lived it. And what I have seen is betrayal. I am chained because of their weakness. I am hated because of their fear. Do you expect me to forgive them?"
"I do not ask forgiveness," Hagoromo said. "I ask only that you see them as more than their flaws. The cycle of hatred has roots in pain, and you have borne more than most. Yet, Kurama, even you are not only hatred. You are my son, born of chakra, born of the hope that you would understand connection as deeply as I. If you deny them, you deny yourself."
For a long time, silence filled the prison. Kurama lowered his head, the gleam in his eyes uncertain. He wanted to roar, to tear at the walls until they shattered, but instead he whispered.
"Then tell me, Sage. If your dream is not already dead, why does it always feel like I am the one paying for it?"
"Because dreams worth carrying always demand more than we wish to give. Perhaps you will see why I never gave up on humanity."
Kurama's eyes glowed in the dark cage, two burning suns that carried centuries of bitterness. His voice was lower now, more like a growl caught between anger and resignation. "So tell me, Sage… are you disappointed in me? That I gave up on your precious humans? That I spat on the dream you gave us? That I could no longer care?"
"No, Kurama. I am not disappointed. How could I be? You have carried wounds that would break the spirit of any man. And still, despite it all, you endure. I cannot call that a failure."
"Endure? Endure is not living. Endure is not freedom. Endure is not hope. It is surviving in spite of shackles, in spite of hatred, in spite of being nothing but a weapon for men too weak to fight their own battles. You say I endure, but that is all I have ever done. And endurance feels like another name for despair."
"Perhaps it is so. But endurance is also what allows the world to change. A fire endures the wind by clinging to the smallest ember, and in time that ember grows into flame again. If you had truly given up, Kurama, you would not still question me now. You would not rage at the unfairness. Rage is proof that you still care, even if you do not wish to admit it."
"You speak as though my hatred is some hidden hope. But I tell you this, Sage… my hatred is all I have left. It is the only truth that has never betrayed me."
"And yet hatred is a chain as heavy as any seal," Hagoromo said. "You have worn it for so long that you do not notice the weight. One day, Kurama, when you meet one who bears the courage to reach through your rage and touch the truth beneath it, you will know that you are not only hatred. That is why I am not disappointed in you. I am only waiting."
Kurama let out a long, bitter laugh, shaking the walls of his new cage. "Waiting, are you? You sound as though you think some miracle child will stumble into this prison and convince me to care again. You've seen humanity, Sage. You've seen what they've done to me. Why would I ever believe in them again?"
"Because one day, Kurama, you will not have to believe in them first. One of them will believe in you."
The conversation between the Sage and the fox ended abruptly as a ring of fire carved itself into existence upon the boy's soul. It seared across the surface of Naruto's spirit like a living brand, the flame circling until it formed a perfect eclipse. Within that eclipse, the darksoul stirred and settled, as though the fire itself had chosen to chain it.
Before either Kurama or Hagoromo could speak, the pull began. Naruto's soul, and with it Kurama's, was dragged into a rift, swallowed by a void that was neither time nor space. The fox vanished, the boy vanished, and only silence remained.
Hagoromo hovered in the empty astral plane, the aftershocks still trembling in the currents of chakra. His eyes fell upon Ashura's torn soul, flickering faintly in his palm. The Sage's expression darkened as he spoke, his voice weighted with foreboding.
"I foresee that this other realm will twist the course of all things. The boy and the beast are no longer bound to the world I left behind, yet their absence will not erase their influence."
His gaze lifted toward the unseen horizon, as if sensing another presence lingering in the far distance. His tone sharpened, grave and unyielding.
"And you, my son… you no longer belong to this new world. Your soul has no place in the path that lies ahead. For the shadow of Indra still walks the earth, his vessel unbroken, his hatred unspent. Without you to temper him, the scales lean ever darker. I fear this other dimension is not a refuge, but a crucible. And what is forged within it may return to consume all."
Coming to Lordran was like dying and being remade. Kurama felt it in every fragment of his being. The tearing apart, the reshaping, the sudden stillness after chaos. Yet there was something different this time. For the first time in decades, he could see outside his jinchūriki without being filtered through dreams or forced summons. It was as if his eyes had been set in Naruto's skull, peering into a prison that was no longer only his own.
At least I won't be bored now, he thought dryly as he observed the boy stumbling through this strange new place. He watched Naruto save a wounded knight, Oscar, and then face down the towering Asylum Demon.
Kurama tested the air with his senses, reaching out in the way he always had.
"That… thing has no chakra. Not even a drop."
He widened his perception, pushing further, but the world resisted him. His awareness stuttered and buckled like a man drowning in deep water.
"This whole world has no chakra."
The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Still, he kept watching. Slowly, uneasily, Kurama began to realize he was not just a prisoner observing his jailer. Through the strange tether of Naruto's soul, he felt each clash, each jolt of impact, each step like echoes resonating in his own body.
When Naruto spoke with Oscar, Kurama noticed something else. The boy's tongue was foreign, yet the words flowed clearly into Kurama's understanding, as if the system itself bent to translate them.
Another trick of that angel? Kurama mused. Then the first Hollow shambled forward. Kurama's hackles rose immediately. There was no life in the thing. Only a wrongness, like a shadow wearing a corpse.
When Naruto struck it down, the body collapsed into nothingness, leaving behind glowing orbs. Oscar gestured toward them.
"This is a soul. Souls can be used to strengthen your abilities."
Kurama scoffed, unimpressed until the boy absorbed it.
Kurama's eyes widened. The energy didn't travel through chakra coils. It sank directly into the Darksign branded upon Naruto's soul. Kurama traced the flow, following it deeper and deeper, until he realized he was staring into an abyss that had no bottom.
"That… wasn't chakra."
For once, the great fox had no answer.
And as the boy pressed on, fighting through the undead asylum, Kurama found himself silent.
Kurama had to admit, he liked that his jailer was not an idiot. The boy had figured out how to use his shadow clones not just for fighting but for training, multiplying his effort in ways that even the fox found clever. That kind of cunning wasn't what Kurama expected from Naruto. It was promising.
And then there was the knight. Oscar.
Kurama had known countless humans across the ages, and most of them disgusted him in one way or another. But this one was different. Oscar treated Naruto with a decency that was rare, a respect that came with no fear or false reverence. Both Naruto and Kurama noticed it. Both of them appreciated it.
Kurama observed as the two of them trained together in that forsaken place. Oscar's style was foreign to Kurama's eyes, yet elegant in its simplicity.
Kurama found himself impressed despite his natural disdain. To think a human could reach this kind of precision without chakra.
He saw them fight and flee from the Asylum Demon. Kurama laughed when Naruto almost got impaled by an arrow. Then there was Naruto's first magic ring.
"You're using some cheap trinket to create footing?!" he barked, voice echoing through the boy's subconscious. "You're a shinobi, damn it! Learn a proper technique!"
But Naruto couldn't hear him yet.
Then came the moment that silenced Kurama.
Naruto caught a glimpse of his reflection, and the hollowed appearance of the boy made the fox stop cold. "...That isn't right."
And then Oscar said it. "Naruto, you're not from this world."
Kurama's ears perked. "...Not from this world?"
The thought chilled him deeper than anything else.
He had once believed chakra was the foundation of all things. That no world could exist without it. But now, watching this strange place full of monsters and madness, of souls instead of chakra, he realized something terrifying. This world didn't need chakra. And yet, somehow, it had Naruto.
"...Why did that angel send you here?"
He had no answer.
Later, Kurama sat silently as Oscar spoke of the Age of Ancients, of the Age of Fire, of the Lords and their war against the Everlasting Dragons.
Kurama narrowed his eyes, tail swaying behind him in thought. The war. The first fire. The disparity of time. The chosen undead… It all sounded mythic. Familiar in a way Kurama couldn't quite place, but disturbing too. He thought about the angel, that grotesque, impossible thing that had placed the Dark Soul in Naruto. And suddenly, something Oscar said clicked.
"...The Furtive Pygmy…"
Kurama's ears twitched.
"You've got to be kidding me. That thing was the Pygmy?" he muttered, trying to wrap his head around it. "No. No, I don't like where this is going."
Just then, Naruto picked up the Pyromancy Flame and Kurama jolted. A flicker of twisted fire ignited within Naruto's mindscape.
"For the love of the Sage, stop jamming every weird relic into your body, you reckless dumbass!" Kurama shouted.
The pyromancy flame spread its influence across Naruto's mindscape as creeping vines wrapped around the strange ember that had taken root within the boy's soul.
The moment Kurama extended his senses toward it, he regretted it. This was no ordinary fire. Beneath the chaos and the hunger, he felt something older, something that reminded him of the life force at the heart of all creation. A shard of the life soul itself, burning endlessly, gnawing at everything around it. And the strangest part was how it reacted to chakra. The fire didn't resist it. It welcomed it. Chakra was nothing more than kindling, fuel to be devoured, twisted, and reshaped into something unrecognizable.
Kurama shuddered, though he would never admit it aloud. Instinct howled at him. If not for the barrier of darkness that now cocooned him, he would already have been consumed, reduced to ash within this inferno.
The fox tore his gaze away from the ember, suppressing the unease rising in his chest. That thing was dangerous beyond comprehension. He did not want to think about what it meant for Naruto or for himself.
So instead, Kurama turned his attention outward, to the boy and his strange knight teacher. He watched through Naruto's eyes as they plunged into the broken courtyard of the asylum.
Kurama watched intently until Naruto got flattened like a pancake.
Kurama flinched.
Then blinked.
And blinked again.
Because now they were suddenly back in the Elemental Nations, standing face to face with some white-haired bastard spouting Jinchūriki secrets like it was a school assembly.
Kurama howled with laughter when Naruto thought he was a demon. He watched the boy kill Mizuki, then start talking to the Third Hokage. Kurama lost interest soon after and dozed off until Naruto used the Darksign again.
When he woke up and realized Naruto could actually return to Lordran, Kurama blinked in surprise. "Wait... it's not a one-way trip? Huh. That changes things."
He stayed quiet during Naruto's farewell to Oscar.
There were few humans Kurama would ever admit to respecting, but this strange knight had left an impression. Oscar's dignity, his calm in the face of despair, lingered like an echo. Yet the boy believed him dead. Still, the thought gnawed at Kurama.
Was the knight truly gone? Or would his story continue in some twisted form?
Kurama had no answers, and no way of tempting the boy into asking them. All he could do was watch.
So he watched as Naruto hurled himself once more into the battle with the Asylum Demon.
Kurama felt the boy's anger, his desperation, his wild willpower surging like fire through veins too small to hold it. The fight was brutal, savage, each strike a defiance against a foe that should have crushed him. And against his own better judgment, Kurama found himself caught up in it.
"Yes! Fuck him up!"
"Break his ugly hammer!"
The words tore from his throat as Kurama watched with a smile while the Asylum Demon was killed.
"You did it, brat! You actually—" Kurama stopped, ears flattening.
Wait. What was he doing?
He stared in silence, the realization settling like a stone in his gut.
Was he… cheering for the boy? No. Just momentary entertainment to fight the boredom.
But even as he turned away into the shadows of the cage, his tail flicked with a restless rhythm, betraying him… as Naruto escaped the Black Knight, buried his friend, and took his first steps into Lordran.
Kurama didn't go back to sleep.
For the first time in decades, one of his hosts was actually interesting. Not because Naruto was special, but because the world he was tangled in was downright insane. And frankly, watching the kid get smacked around in brutal, creative ways was good entertainment.
When Naruto met that priest-looking idiot, Petrus, Kurama let out a low growl.
"Oh great, another god. Just what we need. If you're going to keep collecting divine nonsense, you could at least free me, you inconsiderate gnat," Kurama muttered.
He watched as Naruto was baptized into the Way of White, a white ring forming around his soul like a glowing leash.
A branding mark, probably. Something to say property of the gods. Kurama snorted.
Then came the graveyard.
Watching Naruto get torn apart by skeletons over and over again was like watching someone try to fight a blender with a toothpick. Hilarious and somehow tragic.
Kurama tilted his head, amused, as Naruto used souls to level up. The sight of the Darksign glowing, absorbing energy and pumping it through the boy's soul, made the fox's hackles rise.
"Forbidden technique? Ancient soul magic? Who even cares anymore," Kurama said. "At least it's working."
Then Naruto jumped off a cliff to return to Konoha.
Kurama rolled over in his cage and muttered, "Idiot," before going to sleep.
That became their rhythm.
In Konoha, Kurama napped.
In Lordran, he watched Naruto die.
Simple. Efficient. Weirdly satisfying.
Until the Black Knight.
Watching Naruto try to learn from the Black Knight was like watching a toddler try to teach themselves algebra by punching the chalkboard. The number of deaths? Countless. The level of suffering? Glorious.
It was like someone flicking the lights on and off in a dark room. Kurama wasn't directly affected, but oh god, was it annoying.
When Naruto finally killed the knight, Kurama muttered, "About time, you stubborn little dung beetle. Hope it was worth the brain damage."
Then came the Taurus Demon.
Naruto died. Again.
Kurama yawned. "Good riddance."
When Naruto returned and tried to befriend a tiny crystal lizard, Kurama felt genuine curiosity. The creature was unlike anything he had ever sensed. Its body shimmered with crystallized soul fragments, and beneath that brilliance lurked a strange darkness.
Kurama leaned forward in his cage, ears twitching. "What are you, little thing?"
He was fascinated, so much so that he almost forgot about the brat holding it. Watching the crystal lizard was like staring at a riddle given flesh. In time, though, his attention drifted. Through Naruto, he observed more and more of this world, and in doing so, his jailer's memories bled into his awareness.
When he learned of the Uchiha massacre, Kurama laughed, his tails shaking the prison with mirth. "Ha! Finally, a human with some sense. Itachi, eh? I'll remember that name. The Uchiha killer. My favorite mortal so far."
Naruto, of course, remained oblivious. He only smiled at the lizard and, with childlike reverence, named it Oscar after the knight who had saved him.
Kurama didn't know why, but a small smile tugged at his snout. He didn't fight it.
For a while, he allowed himself to drift into slumber. But his peace shattered when his senses screamed awake. Naruto was experimenting with the pyromancy flame. Kurama watched, ears high, as the brat coaxed a flicker of life out of the ember. For a few heartbeats, something demonic and raw shambled into existence.
And then it crumbled.
"Hnh. I wonder if he'd get better results with nature energy," the demon fox grumbled, settling back down to rest. But the truth gnawed at him. Naruto was reckless, foolish, and infuriating, but more than any jailer before him, he was… entertaining.
Fun to watch. Even fun to watch die.
Kurama's snout curled in the ghost of another smile as he drifted back into sleep.
Everything was going great until the Zabuza fight.
Kurama was fairly surprised by how much Naruto had grown, and he liked the fact that his container was strong. But during the battle, Naruto was put in a position where, accidentally, he poured chakra straight into the Chaos Flame.
Kurama sat bolt upright as the fire in the mindscape twisted, convulsed, and turned into wood.
Vines erupted through Naruto's right arm, gnarled and smoldering, glowing with ember veins. And the vines had eyes. Dozens. Blinking. Staring straight at him.
Kurama froze.
"...There goes my sleep," he muttered.
The vines blinked back.
"Damn you, Naruto."
Lordran, for once, seemed to offer Kurama a sense of justice—or so the fox liked to believe. He watched Naruto get hunted down by a Black Knight wielding a greatshield. He saw the boy meet Siegmeyer and Andre, watched him travel through the Darkroot Garden and Basin.
When Naruto grappled with his ideals as a knight, Kurama paid attention. Tsunami's nihilistic ramblings irked him. Kurama didn't tolerate weak-minded fatalism.
Naruto's response? Kill the gangs. Clean the rot. No grand speeches. Just action.
Kurama grinned. "Now that's how you fix a problem. Chop it down."
He didn't realize it at first, but watching Naruto in Lordran made him… invested.
More than he ever wanted to be.
Watching the boy train for Gato's forces.
Watching him take down the Moonlight Butterfly with Beatrice.
Watching him train under Andre, learn magic, crawl through the Valley of Drakes.
Kurama laughed—giggled, really—when Naruto grafted the soul of a hawk and gained sharp golden hawk eyes.
"If he grafted a fox soul," Kurama muttered, "would he grow ears? A tail?"
He snorted.
He was entertaining himself now.
The true moment of joy, though, came during Naruto's fight with Kakashi. The way the copy ninja's expression crumbled when Naruto came at him like a one-man army.
Kurama howled with laughter in his cell.
But the fun didn't last.
Kakashi's betrayal hit harder than expected. Kurama watched it unfold silently, the laughter gone. He saw the betrayal not just as Naruto's teacher turning on him, but as proof.
Humans never change. Even now, even after centuries, they still hide behind rules and fear when faced with something they can't understand.
Kurama waited for Naruto to lose it.
To burn it all down.
That's what he would've done. What he had done.
And Naruto was angry. He fought the Capra Demon like a feral beast. He experienced the death of the Undead Merchant. But afterward, he said something that caught Kurama off guard.
"I'm going back to the Wave Country. I'm going to look Kakashi in the eye... and ask him why."
A beat passed.
Naruto's fists clenched lightly. "No more silence. No more guessing. I need the truth."
He looked at Oscar.
"Whatever happens next... we face it together. Sound good?"
Kurama snarled. "Fool. He'll lie."
But the fox knew the truth. That deep desire to understand… it was familiar. Too familiar.
Kurama began to wonder: Would Naruto try to understand me? Would he still see me for what I am? For what I've done to his parents, to him?
He growled and turned away from the thought. When did I start caring?
He watched the boy clash with the Black Knight and its halberd. He watched the lame fight with the Hydra. Lordran never slowed, and neither did Naruto.
Then came the cursed seal. The offer of the dragon's power.
Kurama watched Naruto hesitate. "Damn it, brat," he muttered. "You trying to make this permanent? I'm supposed to be your ultimate weapon, not some damned reptile. Why the hell do you want to be a dragon instead of asking me for power?"
A humorless laugh rumbled through his chest. So many people had craved his strength. And here was Naruto, the only human Kurama had ever truly wanted to give it to, hesitating.
Then the presence came.
Havel.
Even sealed within Naruto, Kurama felt the weight of that aura: space bending, crushing, like gravity given form. His hackles rose. It rivaled Hashirama. It rivaled Madara.
"Brat… you're in danger."
And then Kurama saw: Havel wasn't moving toward Naruto. He was coming for Oscar. Naruto fought, but against someone like that he was an ant pushing against a mountain.
"I can't…" the boy whispered, shaking. "I can't protect anyone like this."
Kurama's claws scraped the bars of his cage. "Move, you damn brat! Move!"
But Naruto wasn't listening. His hand closed around the cursed seal.
"I promised Gato I'd show him what a true monster looked like," Naruto muttered. "Guess I wasn't lying after all."
Kurama watched grimly as Naruto pressed the curse mark against the dragon scale. Nothing happened.
Of course it didn't. The mark was crude, an incomplete vessel for storing nature energy. Even fully realized, Kurama doubted it could touch something as ancient and absolute as the bloodline of an everlasting dragon.
They needed something far greater. Something on another level entirely.
Oscar's fear trickled faintly into the fox's senses. Naruto's desperation blazed hotter. Kurama slammed his chakra against the black walls of his prison, snarling as sparks of crimson lightning crackled across the void. He clawed at the cage, tried to hurl even a fragment of himself toward the boy.
Nothing.
"Damn you, angel!" Kurama roared at the void. "Let me help him!"
Naruto's trembling hands raised the Estus Flask. Golden fire spilled down his throat, knitting torn muscle, binding broken bone.
But Kurama felt something else ignite.
The chaos vines coiled around Naruto's mindscape shivered. Twitched. Then burned. Kurama's ears pricked, his senses sharpened to steel. Naruto's chakra had sparked them like dry kindling.
And then the flame answered.
The chaos flame in the boy's right arm flared alive, drawn to the dragon's bloodline. The shard of the Life Soul buried within it stirred, a dark heart beginning to beat. Kurama felt it seeping into Naruto; corrupting, remaking, transforming.
The boy was becoming something else.
An everlasting dragon.
The vines lashed outward, their heat slamming against Kurama's prison. The fox recoiled, then blinked in shock. The sealing knot the angel had woven, that impossible binding of darkness, was burning away.
He was getting free.
A wild laugh tore from his throat. At last. He could finally stand beside the brat; tear Havel apart fang by fang, and fight with him. He readied himself to burst forth then stopped.
Naruto's body was only half-changed, trapped between boy and dragon. His chakra was too small, too thin. If the fire guttered out now, he would die from madness.
Kurama stilled. The choice stared back at him.
Slowly, he remembered his father's voice. Because dreams worth carrying always demand more than we wish to give.
"Father," he whispered, "I think I've found what you saw in humanity. I think I've found it in this boy. And I… I want to fight for it."
He inhaled once more then gave.
His chakra flooded the chaos fire, reigniting it, holding it steady. Agony ripped through him as the blaze devoured his essence. It was like being burned alive from the inside out, each tail unraveling into embers.
For an instant, he wondered was this the angel's plan all along? To keep him as fuel, a sacrifice for the boy's ascension?
He didn't care.
Naruto was mortal. Fragile. Infuriating. And yet, in the endless dark, he had been Kurama's first spark. Even as his chakra crumbled, the fox grinned through bared fangs.
"Heh-heh… brat… guess you're not human anymore. I wonder, with your new eyes… what you'll think of me?"
And for the first time in centuries, the thought made him smile. If Naruto truly became an everlasting dragon, then perhaps—just perhaps—Kurama had found a friend who could walk beside him, beyond the fleeting breath of human life.
It took more than a minute. Naruto's body writhed between human and dragon. Kurama roared as his chakra burned away, stoking the chaos flame, keeping it alive when it should have guttered out.
And then Havel moved, helping Naruto finish his dragon ascension.
With Havel's actions and Kurama's efforts, the change was sealed.
When the light faded, Naruto stood tall. His form was wreathed in scales that shimmered like obsidian laced with magma.
Kurama slumped inside the boy's mindscape, smoke rising from his fur. His body felt thin, hollow… his chakra nearly drained to ash. He should have cursed. Should have growled at the unfairness of it all.
Instead, he stared.
For the first time in all his long life, Kurama felt something he could only call beautiful.
That boy now stood as something eternal. A being beyond time, beyond human frailty.
Kurama's muzzle curled into a smile.
"Next time… when I reform… I want to meet you again, brat. Not as your prisoner. Not as your burden. Just… as me."
He closed his eyes, and a softness came to his face that hadn't been there for centuries.
"I wonder how much you'll have grown when we meet again. Maybe next time… you will be strong enough to stand beside me as an equal."
His body began to turn to vapor.
"Even if I vanish now… I'll still carry this. You changed something in me. You made me remember what it felt like to care. To hope."
A last breath.
A final thought, cast into the silence of Lordran: When will the dragon and the fox meet again?
Author's Note:
And that wraps up the Kurama POV! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know a lot of you were expecting something different from this chapter. I've actually gotten a bunch of messages asking if Kurama would go off on his own adventure, like wandering into Astora or something. Honestly, that would have been cool, but I have a story to tell, and this was always the path I wanted for him. I hope you still found it enjoyable.
Now, let's jump into the Q&A.
Q: Who is the Angel?
…(crickets)
Did you really think I was going to answer that right now? No. The Angel is one of the most mysterious figures in the story, and they do not properly come into play until the later half. So no identity reveal yet.
Here is a little hint: Kushina is connected to the Angel in some way, shape, or form.
Q: Is the Angel stronger than prime Hagoromo?
Yes. That is basically confirmed in the chapter already. The Angel casually stopped time. So yes, they are definitely one of the strongest characters I have planned for this story.
Q: Why did you add the Kurama Clan into Kurama's backstory?
Good question. For those who do not know, the Kurama Clan is a filler-only clan from the anime. They are extremely skilled in genjutsu, thanks to their kekkei genkai. Once every few generations, someone is born with such overwhelming genjutsu ability that their illusions literally become real, basically letting them kill with genjutsu.
So why connect them to the Nine-Tails Kurama?
Honestly, because I have always loved that filler arc. The Kurama Clan was one of my favorite additions in the anime, and I always thought they were cool. Since canon already has the Kaguya Clan, connected to Kaguya herself, I always assumed the Kurama Clan must have been named after the Kyuubi. And since foxes in folklore are known for illusions, the connection felt natural.
What you saw in this chapter was me adding lore and worldbuilding to tie that filler-only clan into the main mythos. The Kurama Clan's ability to turn genjutsu into reality is kind of like a knockoff version of Hagoromo's Creation of All Things Jutsu. To reconcile their broken ability, I connected it back to the Sage in the lore, but made it clear it is only an imitation.
And that is the important Q&A for this chapter.
If you have more questions, feel free to ask. I will happily answer.
Let me know what you thought about Kurama's characterization and development here. Did you like his reactions to Lordran? Also, when do you want Naruto and Kurama to actually meet face-to-face again?
That's It… For Now.
And if you can't wait for the next update, the next chapter drops on Oct 7th! You can read ahead to Chapter 104 on Patreon.
As always, I want to thank you all for taking the time to read, comment, and follow along with this story. Your feedback means more than you know, and it helps push me to make each chapter bigger, sharper, and more true to the worlds of Naruto and Dark Souls.
Until next time, Be safe, friend. Don't you dare go Hollow..
—Adam