Thank you, LyricalJelly (deviantART) for this peaceful fanart that is just too cute.

Hatred.

Bitterness.

Disgust.

Anger.

Despair.

Those were the only feelings Kurama could identify with certainty.

When he was younger, he knew only confusion, and fear. The Old Man had brought him and his siblings into this world, just shortly before leaving. He had only vague memories of being the Jūbi at that time—really just flashes of apathy, and longing—but he knew enough that this Old Man was a kind human.

Even in his last few days on this world, the Old Man spent his time consoling the bijū, and asking for their forgiveness in what he had to do—leaving them behind in this world on their own.

Kurama and his siblings mourned the Old Man's passing, for not only did it mean they lost their caregiver... it also meant it was time for them to venture out into the world. While the Old Man had shown them a secret hideaway they could use while they were young, the bijū knew it would not protect them forever.

The day the Old Man moved on, he had gathered all the bijū together for a final parting.

"I am not long for this world," he had rasped, "but I ask you all to stay in this world for longer still. You will be put through hell, and I am so very sorry for this, but I must ask you all to endure through it. As I have taught all of my disciples and children, you must endure through it. Because if you do..."

Kurama had taken in his words with great care. He held the highest respect for the Old Man, and could hear the wisdom behind his words.

He had promised himself on the Old Man's death bed, that no matter what... he would endure.

Kurama could still remember, painfully clearly, the first time he had foolishly wandered into a human settlement. He believed that the Old Man was like all humans, and as such, that he would be welcomed amongst them.

He could not have been more wrong.

Even after being chased out by the spitting furious mob, Kurama tried again, and again.

Each with the same effect.

It was then that these feelings first greeted him, as he slowly retreated back to his and his siblings' hideaway.

He loathed humanity—how close-minded and pitiful they were. He was bitter towards their treatment of him. He was disgusted by their cowering nature. He was furious at them all.

And he despaired that this was all life had in store for him.

His feelings did not sway as the decades, and centuries went on. If anything, they grew, and grew, until Kurama openly despised humans, and went out of his way for their destruction. He relished in watching them squirm, seeing the fear light up in their eyes as they realized there was no hope for them.

There was no hope for anyone.

He supposed he wasn't too surprised when Hashirama and Mito took their chance in Hashirama's battle against Madara to seal Kurama away, and put a stop to his terrorism. It wasn't long after that did the rest of the bijū become hunted down and imprisoned by Hashirama, and his wife; but, only his wife held Kurama inside of her.

Kurama tried valiantly, and fruitlessly, to escape her many times. The closest he had gotten was during her first childbirth, but Hashirama had been there and put an abrupt stop to that escape.

It was after that attempt, though, did Mito finally deign to visit him for the first time in that place between their minds, and the seal.

"Kyūbi," Mito intoned, her shoulders square as she faced him down.

Kurama leered at her in the darkness, baring his teeth for her to see them. A thrill of sick, smug, satisfaction ran through him when he saw that sliver of fear in her eyes.

"Kyūbi," Mito began again, the smallest of quivers in her voice, "you have tried many times to escape me now. Last night was the closest you have ever gotten. I came here to tell you that is the closest you will ever get."

Anger flared through Kurama, in part for the fear that she was correct, as well as for the audacity this woman had to mock him.

He, who had destroyed countless civilizations, and brought humanity to its knees more than once with a simple, well-placed bomb every now and then.

It galled him to no end that this... woman... was his warden, and that he could not break free of her disgusting chakra.

"I swear," Kurama growled out, low and rumbling, "I swear, I will break free. And when I do, I will devour every single person you hold dear, Mito."

It was, perhaps, the first time Kurama had spoken to a human since he was little. Mito's reaction was priceless, as she paled considerably and her eyes widened. Fear, revulsion, and cold horror painted her face into a rather pretty sight to Kurama. She took a step back, her mouth opening to respond, but no words came out.

Kurama savored her silence, and fear.

And, then, Kurama could feel the faint flash of a memory from Mito. It was strong enough that he could catch an echo of it—it was of Hashirama, and the infant she had born. With it, there was a strong rush of warm, alien, emotion. It seemed to visibly shake Mito to her very core, and she bowed her head at the weight of this emotion.

Kurama's ears cocked back in suspicion.

Then, Mito's head snapped up, and there was this fire inside of them. Kurama was visibly taken back by this sudden change. Never before had a human held such determination in their eyes while glaring at him. Her fear, he realized with a dropping stomach, was nonexistent. In its place, was that same alien feeling, raging through her, along with pure, and utter, fury.

"I will not," Mito began lowly, her voice hard as steel, "ever allow that to happen. I swear it upon my life."

Kurama wanted to retort something to the woman, but words failed him.

He was stupefied at that echo of emotion he felt.

Before he could regain himself, Mito was already gone, and Kurama would not speak with her again until the day she died.

Instead, he sat in that prison, alone in the dark.

He waited.

He endured.

('･ω･')

"Kyūbi," Mito greeted him. Although she was older than the village, in her mindscape, she looked as young and refreshed as ever.

Kurama returned with a low growl of obvious distaste.

Mito smiled faintly at him, a hooded look crossing over her features, and sad gleam in her eyes.

"You will be moving to a new host," Mito said softly. "I will place extra seals around, so you may not contact her until she is at least twenty. She needs time, away from your influence, to fill herself with love."

Love, Kurama thought, taking in the word. He had heard Mito speak it out loud many times around those she obviously cared about. But, Kurama could not place the word with any set emotion. Did it belong with happiness? Another word for it, perhaps? Was it longing? Was it despair?

Mito seemed to associate this word with all of those emotions, and more. Anger. Frustration. Joy. Mourning. Lust.

Perhaps it was just a word humans used when they could not understand what they were feeling.

Regardless, Kurama filed the word away for later, continuing to eye Mito with open disdain.

Mito stared back him, a new spark in her eye.

Kurama could recognize that look instantly.

His reaction was immediate.

He stood up, his hackles raised, and a snarl crawling its way out of his throat. Pure, and utter rage burned inside of him, at the sheer insult she gave him. His tails flailed around, and never before had Kurama felt such a strong urge to murder than he had before.

Pity.

She looked at him with pity.

"May you rot in fucking hell," Kurama hissed.

Mito merely glanced away. "I had been with you for so long, Kyūbi. I catch glimpses of your emotions, and I know... I know what you are feeling... I wish... I wish you could be filled with it, too, Kyūbi."

"Get. Out."

The finality of his words seemed to weigh heavily with Mito, and she closed her eyes as she disappeared from view.

The fury Kurama had felt did not disappear.

Even if confusion joined it soon enough.

('･ω･')

Kushina only greeted Kurama once before she died.

Kurama decided instantly that he hated Kushina a lot more than he hated Mito the second he was sealed inside of her. His prison was undoubtedly the most uncomfortable thing he had to experience in his entire life.

While Kurama was indeed a construct of chakra, that did not mean he was immune to feeling pain. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was susceptible to new levels of pain that humans did not have to endure. A prime example being that his chakra was volatile when mixed forcibly or incorrect with human chakra, or nature chakra. It didn't only hurt the humans, but it hurt him. His chakra was how he felt, it was his touching sensation, if you would.

So having his touch being grounded out, minced up, and squashed to mix in with something that it made it volatile... was highly uncomfortable.

Unlike most humans, though, Kurama had a very high pain tolerance. Decades of having his chakra mixed in with Mito's made damn sure of that.

And now for this host, not only was the mixture of hers and Kurama's chakra imbalanced (like it was with Mito's), but it was decided that he would have poles impaled through him while he choked on fucking chains.

Oh, yes, Kurama had never hated anyone more than he hated Kushina.

When she finally did decide to visit him, Kurama could not restrain himself from promising a most heinous vengeance when he escaped.

Kushina's reaction mirrored Mito's, right down to the dot.

The exception being that instead of Hashirama and a child flashing before her, it was Minato.

Then her back straightened out, and a steely glint entered her eyes. The fear was gone, replaced with determination that damnable foreign emotion.

"Not even over my dead body," Kushina promised, her eyes narrowing.

Kurama sneered at her. "We will see about that."

When she was gone, he knew he would not be able to escape for some time.

He closed his eyes, feeling the disgust swell in the pit of his chest.

He endured.

('･ω･')

After initially being imprisoned for the third time, Kurama took a moment to wallow in his disgust, and anger.

He hated humans. He hated them with such a passion, it physically pained him to know they were still alive.

When he was calm enough to take in his surroundings, he noticed a few things immediately.

One: that he wasn't in constant pain.

And two: he was in some sort of sewer.

The first one needed to be addressed right away, because he could clearly feel his chakra running throughout both of the infants' body.

His red eyes gleamed in the darkness, as he surveyed the seal on the front of his cage. While he could not access all layers of it, he could see the basics of it. It was a stronger seal than the previous seals used to imprison him, and it seemed to incorporate a new concept.

With the first two jinchūrikis, Kurama's chakra had immediately flooded their chakra systems, filling them and constantly battling against them. This caused a constant volatile reaction between the two chakras and made it difficult for them to use their chakra, and made it painful for Kurama.

It took years—really decades—for the two contrasting chakras to finally find some level of balance.

Whereas with this seal, and these jinchūriki... there was a definite restraint in the amount of chakra that Kurama could push out. It came out as a more of a trinkle, just barely a whisper, really. Kurama realized, with a small amount of surprise, that as time went on, more and more of his chakra would be introduced into their system.

They would be building up a resistance to him.

And he would be building up a resistance to them.

It was... almost a mercy.

Kurama wasn't sure how he felt about that. He was damn sure the humans didn't realize the pain their chakra had on him, but still... He could remember that Kushina had complained on multiple occasions the feeling of his chakra inside of her, and how it hurt her chakra at times.

Perhaps Minato had taken that in consideration, and in hopes of easing their children's pain, introduced this concept?

Whatever it was, Kurama was content with it.

The second thing to be addressed was... the sewer.

Kurama hated water. He hated how it seemed to matt his fur down, cling to it, and always chill him to the bone.

He hated being cold more than anything.

A silent growl escaped Kurama, and his teeth glistened in the darkness.

Trade one pain, for a whole other.

Well.

Let's see how much I hate these new hosts.

('･ω･')

She was smaller than he would have thought.

Whereas with his previous two wardens came as young women, she came as a brat.

Kurama's ears cocked back in surprise the second he felt her presence appear just outside of his latest cage. She was blinking vapidly, taking everything in with mild surprise. Kurama could not smell any fear from her, or much confusion, either. Both of which he thought was curious, but it certainly wasn't impossible. Perhaps the brat simply hadn't realized what was transpiring—perhaps she believed it all to be a dream.

Kurama's voice was dry, oozing of disinterest as he said, "What do we have here? One of my prison guards finally deigns to show themselves before me."

She whirled around, pretty blue eyes widening as she noticed Kurama. He felt a twinge of annoyance when he still didn't feel any fear from her.

Did she think she was superior to him? Did she think he was harmless to her?

Considering how it was with the previous hosts...

Kurama grit his teeth.

"Hi," she said, her voice high-pitched and carrying easily through the darkness. "I'm Uzumaki Miwako."

Still feeling irritated at the thought that she believed herself superior, Kurama let out a condescending chuckle. He briefly entertained the idea of attempting to scare her, but recalling the last times he tried that with his hosts had caused a rather... poor backlash, he restrained himself.

Besides, she was still young.

Impressionable.

Malleable.

"And you humans call me the Kyūbi."

There was a flash of obvious annoyance in her eyes, but it was gone too soon for Kurama to question what had caused it. "That's not a name."

"It is what you call me, though," Kurama replied.

Again, there was that annoyance, but... there was something else mixed in with it. An alien gleam that Kurama could not identify. It was similar to the one Mito, and Kushina had, but it felt like it had a whole other connotation.

Especially when it felt like it was directed right at him.

Unknowingly, Kurama's tails curled together.

"I won't call you that," the girl said vehemently. "That's just like you calling me human. It's just generalizing a whole species. My name is Miwako, and I won't respond to anything else. Just like you have a name, and you shouldn't respond to anything else."

A silent snarl crawled its way past Kurama's lips—mostly due to not understanding that damnable emotion in her eyes. He hated the unknowing, and for too long that wretched feeling had led him into worse, and worse situations. What was really irritating was that it wasn't even spurned on by something he had said, or did (at least, he believed not). He did not threaten her (yet), nor was he howling curses at her.

Ever still, she sparked that horrible emotion in her eyes.

"I have no intentions of telling you my name," Kurama snapped.

The brat seemed completely unaffected by Kurama's snarl. "Then I'll just give you a name. Kurama. There. That's your name."

Shock froze the bijū in place, and his eyes widened considerably. He stiffened considerably, and the only word that could tumble out of his mouth was, "What?"

"Kurama," she repeated. "It fits you, ya know? Therefore your name is Kurama as far as I'm concerned."

Nothing else of great importance happened in that meeting, as far as Kurama was concerned. They talked a brief longer, but none of it seemed to matter after her words.

She was a brat—a child. She didn't know any better. She couldn't have possibly understood that humans and bijū... they did not get along. They were not meant to get along. Humans were vile, disgusting, and weak. Bijū were immortal, strong, and superior.

The inferior did not mix well with the superior. They were crushed beneath them like ants.

Surely, there was something wrong with that child.

There was no way—there was no way any human in their right mind would... would...

... would be so kind?

('･ω･')

He watched her more carefully from that point. He was wary of her, because it became painfully obvious she was not a sheltered child and knew the dangers of the world well enough to understand that Kurama was not something to be trifled with.

In spite of this, she persisted in conversing with him. She returned to stand outside of his cage frequently, a smile always on her lips, and that odd shine in her eyes.

He remained gruff with her, cautiously rude. Never too vicious, but definitely not too welcoming, either. She made no threats against him—no promises to harm him, and for the moment, his cage was not entirely unpleasant.

A large part of him loathed the fact that he was showing patience to such a brat—that he was not snarling, and clawing his way to freedom every time she visited; but, that part was quickly squashed down by the more rational side of him. He tried that before, and it got him nowhere, except in a worse prison.

He couldn't bring himself to be kind to the girl in hopes of manipulating her, but he couldn't force himself to be particularly mean, either.

He rested somewhere in the middle, watching, and waiting for her to make the first move.

('･ω･')

Her thoughts had been chaotic since her first kill. What an odd little girl she had been. Raised, and breed to kill, but breaking down when it actually came to it. Strange little creature, really.

Kurama tilted his head when he felt her presence outside of his cage.

"You've been a busy thinker lately," Kurama drawled. "Even I haven't been able to make out your thoughts."

"You will be... able to, I mean," Miwako said anxiously. Kurama shifted in his cage, inhaling in her nervous-filled scent. Despite himself, he was curious to what brought this on. She had never been anything less than content when in his presence. Perhaps she might have lost her temper, ranting about the world outside (and Kurama couldn't resist agreeing with her on some parts), but there was always this underlining feeling she had directed towards him, that gave him the impression she was genuinely happy to be with him.

It unnerved him, and he did his best to ignore it.

"Is that so?" Kurama sneered, already feeling irritated when he caught an echo of that same damning emotion in her eyes.

That gleam never left her eyes when she looked at him.

"You can see my memories, right?" Miwako asked. "If I wanted to... I can show you any memory of mine, right?"

"That is the nature of the seal as you and I have discovered; but, what's the point in bringing that up? I have been with you since the day you were born, brat. There is no memory of yours that I do not have already."

"That's where you're wrong," Miwako whispered, moving towards his cage slowly. "And I want to show you. I want... I want to enter your cage and show you my... my mind."

Kurama inwardly balked in surprise at that, but he narrowed his eyes in heavy suspicion. Was it a trap? Did she hope to lure him into a false sense of security, and then imprison him in a more horrendous, or tightly locked cage?

"You trust me enough to do so? What if I were to ravage your mind... leave you broken and inane?"

"You wouldn't," she disagreed easily. "That wouldn't be helpful to you. While I think it would satisfy you for the moment... you wouldn't want that. You need Naruto's and my help to get out of your cage before we die.... Because if we die, we take you with us—forever. Naruto would never help you if you hurt me, and I wouldn't help you if I could not. So you wouldn't. Even if it would be advantageous to you, I would do it anyway."

A part of Kurama felt briefly annoyed she saw through his bluff, while the rest of him was overcome with suspicion. "Why's that?"

"You'll see," she said quietly. "You'll understand. I know you're not bad. In this world... there really is no such thing as a bad person, you know? Everyone is just shades of gray... some a bit darker. You and I are no exception to this."

And she stepped into his domain.

And he saw everything.

('･ω･')

When she finally left, he laid back down in the sewer, his mind reeling.

Not because of the information she had provided—while that certainly deserved more time to ponder on—but because of the after effects of what she had done.

She had left a backdoor open to her mind for him.

Her entire thoughts, feelings, and memories were laid bare before him. Whether or not she intended this, was still up in the air, but it didn't change the fact that it was still there—still happening. She had opened herself entirely to him, presented herself upon a silver platter, and awaited for his next move.

She was at his mercy.

He could break her, turn her into a mindless drone. Psychologically bring her to her knees.

He had enough chakra coursing through both of their veins. He could focus it on their hearts, and end their lives.

The power, for the first time in almost a century, was his.

And this girl brought to him.

Unknowingly.

No.

No.

Not unknowingly.

He could feel that from the echoes of her memories. She knew she would be helpless to him by doing this—she knew it, yet she accepted it.

Was it because she held an affection for him in her past life?

No.

Was it because he would prove too much of an advantageous ally to not risk it?

No.

Was it because she was just an optimistic person by heart?

No.

No.

No.

Kurama knew why she did it.

He knew, yet he was not ready to accept it.

It was the same reason she kept looking at him with those eyes.

('･ω･')

She was surprisingly easy to deal with.

In spite of having the capabilities of completely destroying her, Kurama held back. She hadn't proven to be a burden to him in the slightest, or irritated him enough to warrant her demise. If anything, she was... dare he say it... helpful.

Useful.

She and he thought a lot alike in certain regards. They both held a strong distaste for many things, but while she idolized her brother, Kurama had no such 'light'. She almost always took his side, and seemed more than happy to listen to him.

In fact, from the echoes of what Kurama could catch, she enjoyed listening to him. Such an odd concept, really. If someone had told him, back when he was first sealed into Mito, that a human girl would like his company... Well, he would have called them insane before eating them.

Kurama? Miwako inquired, her voice sounding softer in his head.

What?

...

She giggled, her laughter echoing around the two of them as she presented herself before his large cage. Kurama peered down at her, staring blankly at the smiling child with that all-too-familiar gleam in her eyes.

"You remember... I was telling you about the new seal. The one where I could pull out pictures of our memories and change the environment. It's finished... and I think now would be a good time to show you," Miwako said, her hands moving to form a handseal. As with each time she wanted to add a sealing layer, she called forth a brush coated with ink.

She began to write over the seal, adding a few lines and drawings. When she was done, the brush was dismissed and she freely entered his cage.

Kurama's tails curled tightly together and he eyed her dubiously as she held up her hands in the dragon seal. "I'm going to show you my favorite memories. You were only able to see and hear my memories before... but now you're going to live them."

And then suddenly the sewer was gone, and Kurama was high in the air. His eyes widened and he resisted the urge to flail, upon realizing they were very high up in the air. There was a whirring sound ringing in their ears, and Kurama couldn't resist letting out a shout of surprise.

The colors were sharp, and bright—a contrasting blue sky and an orange canyon below.

Kurama could feel the harsh wind pounding against him, and he could smell the freshness of the air—oh, how long had it been since he smelt that?—and he could taste the sunlight.

It was a priceless moment.

Then he noticed something, though, and it made the moment even more priceless, but in a far different way.

He could feel her emotions bubbling around him. This giddiness—this sheer, and utter happiness—wrapped around Kurama like a swaddle, and enveloped him in warmth. Like a flurry of bubbles surrounding him in warm sunlight, raising him higher, and higher. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He knew she was directing these emotions at him.

She was sharing her happiness with him—giving her happiness to him.

His eyes slowly closed, and the taste of freedom did not seem to matter as much anymore.

It seemed rather small, in comparison to this warmth he was cocooned in for the first time in his life.

('･ω･')

He watched her more closely since then. He watched, he listened, and he felt.

He knew what was happening—what he was starting to feel, and what she had already felt, but he didn't realize.

('･ω･')

He could remember, quite clearly, that time when he realized he was concerned for her.

It was in their fight against Hidan, and Kakuzu.

The second Hidan had stabbed her... stabbed her there, Kurama was irritated.

Miwako had cringed at the pain, but remained relentless. At that time, her own self-preservation was nonexistent. She was adamant about trying to protect those precious to her brother—disbelieving the fact that he held her above all else.

Kurama snorted in annoyance from inside of the seal, directing his chakra to the wound. It wrapped around it, and with practiced ease it began to try and repair it.

It didn't.

Kurama's ears rose up in surprise, and he inwardly frowned.

What...?

Miwako fell to the ground when Hidan had deftly stabbed both of his knees. She cried out in pain, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Kurama quickly began to push his chakra towards her knees, but found that no matter much he tried, he couldn't get the ligaments to reform, or reconnect.

Something was very wrong here.

A sort of panic was starting to churn inside the pit of Kurama. He stood up and began to restlessly pace around. He banged his chakra against the seal on Naruto's side, relentlessly trying to grab his attention. His tails waved about in clear agitation, and his eyes narrowed.

"... Such a pretty little girl; tell me, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Besides my brother's right hand woman?"

"Well, of course."

"A mom."

The memory came to him, unwanted, and uncalled for. It stirred inside of him, bringing forth an odd, alien emotion.

Worry.

In that fit of uncontrolled emotion, he stopped focusing his chakra to heal her knees. He brought it all to focus on her uterus, and the surrounding area. Everything was forced onto it, and he could feel her body protest heavily against the amount of his chakra was directed there, but he would not let up.

Above all else, he would protect that.

He wasn't in his right mind. It was such a strange feeling, he didn't know how to deal with it. He had never, ever, in his life felt it for another being. He was almost entirely helpless to it. Kurama was, for lack of better words, in a panic over this demanding emotion.

If he had been in his right mind, he would have never focused that point entirely. The way his chakra healed was similar to Tsunade's legendary technique. It forced the cells to regrow until there was nothing left for it to grow from. When that point was reached—when the cells could no longer be replicated because he spent too much of them in repairs... that area was gone, forever.

While Miwako had indeed built up a resistance to him, it was not perfect by any means. She still lost out on her life span when she drew too much, and it still scarred her if she held onto it for too long.

Kurama's chakra was a poison to her, plain and simple.

And when he pushed all of that poison in one spot—one area—destroying and rebuilding the cells in a rapid cycle... well... what did he expect to happen?

In the outside world, Miwako had finally been able to destroy the circle due to a well-placed ninjutsu. The second the connection had broken free, and Kurama could begin the repair-work, did he realize what he had done.

Poison.

He poisoned her.

He brought down all of his chakra, pushed it out of every inch of her body and focused it all together in one spot. Like a magnifying glass taking in the sun's light and pinpointing a single strand of grass.

The grass caught fire, and was burned.

And worse, of worse, it was scarred.

Kurama snapped back his chakra as soon as he realized what he had been doing. Pure, and cold shock, as if icy water had been poured over him, left him numb. He spread out his chakra throughout her body again, repairing her knees, and other injuries, while tentatively prodding her sensitive area with a bit of his chakra.

Hoping, and praying against all else, that he did not do what he thought he did.

I...

('･ω･')

He never told her what happened. When Tsunade, Sasame, Sakura, Shizune, and the other nurses worked furiously to save what they could, he knew they knew, but none of them voiced it. Not one of them explained why they could not save that bit. Why they had to remove it from her, as it had become a festering poison that would have slowly consumed her, no matter what Kurama did anymore.

She was devastated.

The guilt—the heart-stopping, freezing, slap-to-the-face guilt—gnawed at him. It chewed him up in ways he was not prepared to deal with.

So he didn't.

He rationalized, and tried to tell himself that it didn't matter in the long wrong. That she would find happiness elsewhere.

He tried very, very hard.

For the most part, he was able to suppress and ignore his guilt. He was an expert at ignoring pain, after all.

He wanted to tell her—he really did—but he always held his tongue. He knew if he did, she would never forgive him.

And to him... the thought of her spurning him, and turning him away...

... was the worst.

And so, Kurama endured.

('･ω･')

As he stared at her, these odd emotions and feelings burning up inside of him, Kurama knew he had to tell her.

He had to tell this girl, who seemingly loved him dearly, that he was the reason she could not have any children.

For so long now, he had kept it hidden, and for the most part he thought he would live like that. She didn't need to know—he certainly didn't want her to know. They could have lived out the rest of their lives: her in blissful ignorance, and he in relative peace.

But, looking at her at that moment—so open; so trusting; so warm—with that odd gleam in her eyes Kurama knew he could not keep that secret from her.

He had to tell her.

He had to.

"Miwako," Kurama began, feeling unreasonably nervous.

She tilted her head, pretty blue eyes taking an inquisitive light to them.

He shifted anxiously, his tails quickly waving about, and his ears were flat against his head. There was this definite feeling of not-quite-fear-but-certainly-akin. She seemed to sense this, because concern furrowed her brow. "I need to tell you something. It's about... it's about that day. With Hidan and Kakuzu... when you... lost your... ability to have children."

He took a deep breath.

"It's my fault. I will not justify my actions, because the results are the same—my chakra, my actions are to blame for—"

She stopped him.

Not because she was in tears; nor because she looked furious.

Because she was laughing.

She was clutching her sides, and giggling without any restraint.

Kurama's eyes widened, but he did not dare hope he could interpret her laughter for the best. "What?"

"You—you think I didn't know that?" Miwako laughed. "Kurama, I know your chakra very well. I could feel it focusing on my womb and uterus the second Hidan stabbed there. I know you were trying to save it. I understand it was an accident. I don't blame you for a second, Kurama."

He could not respond.

He could not think.

He could not breathe.

Here, he had been consumed by guilt and worry over her reaction... and she knew all along? Moreover... she... she... she...?

Miwako raised her right hand and beckoned for Kurama to bring his face closer to her.

His mind was still blank, still repeating in an almost broken mantra: She...? She...? She...?

He slowly lowered his head, and Miwako leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose very gently, and very softly.

It was small—he could barely even really feel it.

But, that didn't matter.

It was the gesture, the meaning behind it, and the unspoken words the action said that mattered.

They said...

I forgive you.

Beautiful words. Words that once held no meaning to him. Words he once thought of as pointless, or just blatant lies humans would say. Words he thought would never matter to him—would never affect him in any manner whatsoever.

Yet there they were.

For him.

All at once, Kurama was overwhelmed by alien sensations. Things grew inside of him. Warm, bubbly, and sweetly intoxicating.

"Idiot," Miwako teased, her gaze meeting his.

Kurama was frozen under that gaze.

Because at long last, he was able to identify it. He knew, and this time he accepted what it was. He could see those hidden words, and feel that gentle warmth.

I

Accept

You.

He couldn't look away from those eyes. Those warmgentlekind eyes because—wouldheever? Couldheever?—see that kind of emotion for him again? Was this a once in a lifetime moment?

Once in an eternity?

If he had a heart, he was sure it would have stopped at this moment, or perhaps been beating erratically fast from the high-strung emotions he was currently drowning in.

It took a couple of seconds for Kurama's mind to catch up with what he was feeling. And while he had no personal experience with it, in light of recent realizations, and recalling the echoes of what his jinchūriki had felt... he felt he could reasonably define them.

With this enlightenment, he knew what he felt.

In spite of knowing—or perhaps, because of knowing—Kurama could not bring himself to admit it. He wouldn't, he couldn't, put words to what he felt.

It would be the end to his belief on humanity—to his belief of himself, the personification of hatred.

To admit that he harbored any feelings aside from hatred for any human...

He couldn't do that.

Although, that didn't mean he could completely ignore them, either.

No... No... he couldn't do that.

Miwako...

Kurama took a deep, steadying breath.

Endure. That was what the Old Man told him to do.

He had to endure through a horrendous childhood, and adolescence, followed by decades of being imprisoned and tortured slowly. He endured through it all, with gritted teeth, because he swore to himself that he would.

He swore he would follow the Old Man's words, because he trusted them.

Even if, at the start of it all, he did not entirely believe them.

As I have taught all of my disciples and children, you must endure through it. Because if you do...

In the recent years, Kurama did not have to endure. He did not have to push through or persevere. He did not have to bide his time and wait.

He was loved.

He was accepted.

He was cherished.

Because if you do... you will earn the greatest of happiness; because you will able to cherish it above all else, and understand its importance.

In his bond with this young woman, Kurama found the greatest of joy. He knew the horrors and disgusts of life, and for the longest time it had corrupted him and left him jaded; but, here, in this moment, he could see the other side. He could see the love Mito held for her family, and the ferocious protectiveness Kushina held for her own.

He understood why Mito looked so mournful and pitying at him in her last hours.

He really had been a loveless beast, devoid of any hope of happiness.

How pathetic.

Kurama endured through hell, and found a bond that was unmistakably revolutionary to him.

Irreplaceable.

Priceless.

A foxy grinned stretched across him, and his tails relaxed.

His eyes could never leave hers.

And now, Miwako...

I have seen you on your knees. I have seen you lose everything. I have seen you at your absolute worst.

But, you, like me, have endured.

You are the epitome of what the Old Man had wanted in his heir. You've gone through hell, but you've gotten back up each and every time, harder to knock down than the last.

So I know... I know... you have endured enough.

Now, Miwako, it's your turn for happiness.