The area was cold, and pretty much wet. It was all that Kurama could feel. He looked more closely to see...he was inside a sewer.
"So, that blasted Yondaime managed to seal me into this infant?" The Nine-tails thought to himself. Then, he grinned. "How cruel of him."
Suddenly...
???: "Who's there?"
The massive fox suddenly stiffened. The voice was deep, and very cold, and terrifyingly familiar. He turned around, to see a figure with black hair, and the crimson eyes that took control on his mind a couple of minutes ago, and he was wearing the white robes from the Sage of Six Path's era.
"Master Indra." Kurama growled as the mention of the name disgusted him. "What are you doing here? That bastard Yondaime didn't have any blood connection to the Uchiha clan, I checked."
Indra's eyes glinted in the dim, subterranean light, the crimson irises shifting lazily into the intricate, spiral pattern of his Mangekyō Sharingan. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the hems of his white, high-collared robes gliding across the murky, ankle-deep water without absorbing a single drop.
"Ignorant beast," Indra sneered softly, his voice cutting through the damp chill of the mindscape like a blade. "You continue to measure the universe through mortal lineages and fragile bloodlines. The Yondaime's heritage is irrelevant. His sealing jutsu tore open the curtain between life and the void-and in pulling your massive pool of chakra into this infant, his seal dragged the lingering threads of my soul along with it."
Kurama bared his razor-sharp fangs, a deep, guttural growl shaking the massive concrete pipes lining the sewer. Burning crimson chakra flared around his colossal form, filling the damp air with suffocating heat, yet Indra didn't so much as flinch.
"You speak with high arrogance for a ghost," Kurama spat, the heavy iron bars of his cage shuddering as he pressed his snout against them. "Look around you, Master Indra. You are trapped inside the belly of a newborn human, locked behind the same seal as me. You aren't a ruler here. You're just another prisoner."
Indra stopped inches from the rusted gates, staring up into the blazing, slit-pupiled eyes of the Nine-Tails with cold detachment. A ghost of a dark, calculated smile touched his lips as he raised a pale hand, resting his palm lightly against the seal's parchment tag.
"A prisoner?" Indra mused, his Sharingan glowing brighter against the gloom. "No, Kurama. This child's vessel is merely a vessel-an unwritten canvas. When he grows strong enough to host my true power, I will reclaim what was stolen from me. Until then, you will learn your place."
With that, Kurama was casted into a Sharingan Genjutsu once again.
Many years later...
"Get out of here, wretched demon!"
The shout was deafening. And the words stung more painful than anything.
"B-but I just want that mask over there!" Said Naruto who pointed at a toy mask. Seeing this, the shopkeeper instantly grabbed the mask, and threw it at Naruto. The impact left a mark on his body.
"Happy? Now get out! I don't want to see you demon nearby ever again, hear me?"
Naruto slowly stood up, and grabbed the mask. He then slowly stood up, and walked back home, ignoring the glares aiming at him. After all, what could he possibly do? He was just a kid, but for some reason, he was treated like a monster, a disease.
"I'm home." He said as he entered the house. The house was empty, as always. He had been living alone ever since he was kicked out from the orphanage at the age of four. And four years later, he was living with instant ramen. After all, what could he possibly eat? Every thing he bought was multiplied the price, and apparently, ramen was the cheapest thing. Life had been very painful to Naruto. But somehow, he still had to move on.
He sat down at the small, dusty table, clutching the plastic mask in his hands. The spot on his shoulder where it had hit him throbbed with a dull, aching heat, but the sting inside his chest was far worse. He didn't understand. He never understood. He was just Naruto.
As he reached for a cup of instant ramen, a strange, prickling coldness began to spread behind his eyes. The room around him faded, the quiet hum of his apartment giving way to the echoing drip of subterranean water.
When Naruto opened his eyes, he wasn't in his kitchen anymore. He was standing in ankle-deep water, surrounded by towering, shadowy pipes.
"So," a smooth, ice-cold voice echoed through the damp corridor, "the host finally wanders into his own mind."
Naruto whipped around, his small body tensing. Standing a few paces away was a man with long black hair, pale skin, and stark white robes lined with black markings. But it was the man's eyes that made Naruto freeze-they burned with a deep, crimson light, carrying a terrifying stillness.
"W-Who are you?" Naruto stammered, taking a cautious step back. "Where are we? Is this... another prank?"
"A prank?" The man tilted his head slightly, his gaze piercing through Naruto like a blade. A faint, dark smile touched his lips. "No, child. This is your sanctuary. The only place in this treacherous village where the sheep cannot touch you."
The man stepped closer, his heavy gaze dropping to the faint bruise forming on Naruto's shoulder.
"They strike you, throw trash at you, and treat you like dirt, yet you retreat into the dark and weep," the stranger said softly, though every word carried an intense, crushing weight. "They call you a demon... yet you display none of the power required to make them fear you. Tell me, boy... does that pain satisfy you?"
Naruto bit his lower lip, his tiny hands curling into tight fists at his sides. He wanted to look away from those glowing red eyes, but he couldn't.
"No..." Naruto whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and buried anger. "I hate it."
"Good," Indra murmured, his Sharingan narrowing slightly. "Then stop behaving like a victim."