Chapter Text
Kurama scowled as he strode through the ancient redwood forest that he had claimed as his, drawn by the chakra flares of a human, deliberately fired off in an attempt to draw attention. No doubt here in yet another attempt to claim his power or bend him to the human’s will. Humans would never learn. He and his siblings would never bow to such petty and cruel beings, any being really, but especially humans.
They are the Bijuu.
They are gods.
No human had ever approached him with any intent other than what they could take from the Bijuu.
Another flare, the human is close.
Kurama gathers his chakra in preparation – he does love to see the terror of such arrogant humans before he kills them – and steps though the massive trees. And stops.
In the center of a large clearing a small campfire burns, casting shadows in the twilight of the forest. Facing him across the campfire is an elderly human dressed in dirty off-white robes, hair bleached white with age, once strong frame withered by the passage of years, seated in the lotus position.
The scene is achingly familiar, the only thing missing is his siblings. How many nights had he and the other Bijuu listened to his father while he sat in front of a fire in that exact pose? It is one of the curses of being a Bijuu. He cannot forget. He can push memories away, bury them so deeply that it can take him a while to recall, but he cannot forget. The passage of time will never dull his memories, or the emotions attached.
But this man is not Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo. He is not his father, dead for going on two millennia. As Kurama reminds himself of this, the man looks up and meets his bloody gaze with shockingly azure orbs. There is no fear. No dread, no terror. No anger, hate, or lust for power ether. Instead the man’s mouth curves up in a gentle smile, an act that the wrinkles say is long familiar.
“Hello, Kurama.”
The man’s voice is kind, his face peaceful, scent of hidden joy. Joy that had not been there until Kurama had stepped between the trees. Joy at seeing him. None had ever been happy at seeing him since the Sage died, not even his own siblings. Yet this elderly human brings memories long suppressed to the surface and feelings Kurama thought he had excised centuries ago.
“Would you like a seat?”
With the memories of the Sage in the forefront of his mind, Kurama settles down across from him without thinking. Surfacing from his memories, Kurama realized that the man is still watching him. He is a human, Kurama reminds himself, bringing forth the memories of every betrayal, every attack, every hateful curse that humans have inflicted on him.
“I can kill you,” Kurama growls, “It wouldn’t even be hard. You’re too old to run. Too old to fight. I can crush you with a single paw. A negligent swipe of a tail. I can incinerate you with fire, flay you with wind, vaporize you with a bijuudama.”
“But you won’t.”
The human is completely certain of that. There wasn’t a single flicker of fear from him, still gazing at Kurama with content acceptance. It infuriates Kurama. Shoving himself to his paws so violently it craters the ground he saturates the area with his chakra, filling the glade with his malice, he looms over the ancient human and snarls
“I am the Kyuubi no Kitsune! I am the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox! I destroy villages, devour towns! I stalk the nightmares of the most powerful humans in the world! Entire nations tremble before me!”
But instead of fear, disgust or anger, sadness flickers across the man’s face instead. Kurama is grudgingly impressed that the man hasn’t even twitched at his overpowering chakra.
“Neither of those is your name.”
“They are the names that I have earned.”
“True, yet they are not you. Ōtsutsuki Kurama.”
Kurama is shocked silent. He’s given his name a few times over the centuries, obviously someone would have written it down somewhere, but his father’s clan…. The only ones who knew that the Sage had made the Bijuu were Indra and Asura, and Kurama was certain that they had taken the secret to their graves.
“…How do you know that name?”
The human’s gentle smile twists with grief and loss.
“From a friend who had been with me all my life, in a future that once was, yet now will never be.”
Kurama is no fool. He may not know who this friend is, though he’s really curious, but that sentence…. Seer, or time travel. He immediately rejects both, yet they’re the only valid answers.
“Prove it.”
The man sighs.
“I’m not particularly good at ninshuu. Too much has been lost over the centuries. But a Memory Transfer Jutsu? That I can do.”
He holds out his age worn hand to Kurama. Kurama hesitates, staring at it like a fox would a venomous snake. The man chuckles
“What are you waiting for? As you said, I’m too old to be a threat to you.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Kurama touches a single digit to the outstretched hand.
And he sees.
When the Jutsu finally ends he once more gazes on the ancient visage of Uzumaki Naruto, a man who has buried friends, his wife, and his children, most lost to old age, alone save for his grandkids, themselves grandparents, and a single companion bound to him since birth, jailor turned soul-forged friend, and through that companion, the other eight Bijuu.
Thrown into the distant past, almost a century before his birth, by preventing a power-hungry fool from traveling back in time in an attempt to claim the Juubi, yet unable to get clear of the seal himself.
It’s all too much, far too much, and Kurama turns and flees into the night, ignoring the pain his departure leaves in Naruto. He also ignores the way his metaphysical heart also squeezes in his chest.
Two days later Kurama is lying on the ground somewhere deep in the forest – he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going when he left (not fled, the Kyuubi no Kitsune never flees) – eyes closed as he sorts and re-watches the memories that Naruto gave him, when something starts to pet his left forepaw.
Snapping his eyes open he is surprised to see Naruto sitting next his paw on a small log that wasn’t there before, back to his face, gently petting his fur.
“Rage and hate are so much easier to understand than pain, loss, and rejection,” Naruto says, a tremor carefully hidden in his voice.
Kurama suppresses a full body flinch. Naruto had laid his soul bare for Kurama, and Kurama had left. Kurama doesn’t want to care about this human, any human really. But. He cannot forget Naruto’s memories, cannot forget the camaraderie and companionship between Naruto and the future version of himself. It makes him feel two things that he had long thought that he would never feel again, loneliness and longing.
He oh so desperately wants what his future self had, and now he’s keenly aware of just how alone he is. Alone for centuries. Millennia. He wants to rage at Naruto for making him feel this way, hate him for giving him his memories. But he knows that won’t drive Naruto away, not unless he kills him or breaks his spirit. Doing either would be so easy, Naruto his hanging by a thread, physically, mentally, spiritually. All his accomplishments have been undone, all sacrifices for naught. Using the memories Naruto gave him, Kurama can think of a dozen things to say that would make Naruto walk away, sit down somewhere, and just… stop holding on to life.
But Kurama is terrified that if he does so, it will be another thousand years before someone offers him their companionship, and he doesn’t want to be alone again. He knows from Naruto’s memories that he will never abandon Kurama so long as he still lives. Having someone so obviously love him unconditionally scares him, yet the prospect of loosing said love scares him far, far more. So the words die in the back of his throat unspoken and instead he just… watches. As the sun rolls across the sky the silence never becomes awkward or strained, Naruto is happy to give Kurama all the time in the world, a far cry from the Naruto of his early and teen years, along with much of his adult life, but now Naruto is old, older than even the Madara of his memories, and tired. He has plenty of memories to lose himself in. Finally Kurama speaks
“Why me?”
“Because you’re my friend,” is the instant response as Naruto turns to face him.
“No, I mean… why me? Why not Zetsu, or Madara?”
Naruto’s confusion clears with a look of understanding.
“Simply put, I’m too old. Too worn out. I mean, yeah before the time jump we could beat any two other Jinchuuriki, but without you teen me would flatten me now. Jonin give me difficulty these days, there’s no way for me to fight either of them and survive, much less win. But you, you I can help.”
“How?”
There is a flicker of chakra and Naruto is holding a scroll which he then unrolls for Kurama to see.
“That is a very complex seal.”
Naruto nodded.
“It’s what we were giving the new Jinchuuriki. Stops control seals dead and is designed to provide resistance to the Sharingan, though it cannot block it completely. Lock is on the inside, keyed to each Bijuu, and the Bijuu cannot be forcibly extracted without first exhausting the chakra of both human and Bijuu. Also allows for the creation of an avatar outside the seal so you can interact with the world.”
“You want me to bond with a human?”
Thanks to Naruto’s memories the idea isn’t as revolting as it might have been, but Kurama still baulks. Naruto sighed, shoulders sagging.
“Uzushiogakure has already developed Jinchuuriki seals that can work on even you. You know this now. They just need an excuse and your location, and Madara is determined to provide both.”
“Then I shall destroy them.”
Naruto gives him a mildly incredulous look.
“You’ve seen the devastation a single Uzumaki can cause, do you honestly think you can stand against an entire clan?”
Kurama scowls.
“They cannot stand against all of the Bijuu.”
“Probably true,” Naruto admits, “But will your siblings believe and rally to you?”
“…no.”
Naruto nods, as though there was no other answer, and to those who know the Bijuu as well as he does, there isn’t. Silence dominates for a while, shadows of the trees beginning to cover the clearing.
“I have no wish to bond with a human.”
“You wish to be alone again?”
“Yes.”
It’s a lie, a blatant one.
“You think that Hagoromo wanted you to live alone, wallowing in your hate, blindly lashing out at the world?”
No, the answer instantly comes to Kurama, but he doesn’t voice it.
“If he did not, why did he abandon us in the middle of nowhere, far from his followers?”
“He ran out of time.”
“…Explain.”
“He wasn’t expecting Indra’s betrayal. Though I do not know for certain, I suspect that he was planning on handing off management of his clan to Asura so that he would have time to establish a support structure for you and your siblings. Indra took that from you.”
“We are the bijuu,” Kurama growls, “We do not need support, especially from fickle and petty creatures like humans.”
He almost believes it.
“When the Sage made you and your siblings, he was limited only by what he knew, but what he knew was the human mind.”
It takes a few moments for Kurama to realize what Naruto is implying, but once he does he snarls
“I am not human!”
“No, you’re not, but the foundations of your mind, what everything else is built off of, is.”
Naruto gives him a kind look.
“And no mind is supposed to go without companionship for years, much less decades and centuries.”
Kurama lurched to his paws and stormed away.
Two weeks had passed, and no matter where Kurama went, Naruto was always there to offer his acceptance, kindness, and love. A part of Kurama was utterly infuriated that this human would not leave him alone, but Naruto’s presence and memories eased an ache in his heart that had been there since his father’s death.
Rather than press him about their previous conversations, Naruto instead talked about amusing incidents that had happened in a future-that-never-will-be. Befitting his age, there are a lot of them. Kurama also couldn’t forget the delight on Naruto’s face when he started making sarcastic commentary. It’s… nice. Even fun. Kurama had forgotten, actually forgotten, something he had thought was impossible, what fun and companionship felt like.
“-So Sasuke and I look at each other as though we’re not upside-down with the rest of the entire office before I say to Boruto ‘What do you mean? You’re the one on the ceiling.’” Naruto chuckles as he slowly goes through a kata, “The kid was so confused. And so was – urngh.”
Kurama looked at Naruto in alarm as his legs abruptly collapsed under him.
“Naruto?”
“I’m okay,” Naruto lied, pain lacing his voice.
“No, you’re not.”
Naruto dropped into Sage mode for a few seconds, something that he had been doing off an on throughout the week with increasing frequency before standing again and giving Kurama a strained smile.
“It’s okay, Kurama. I have time.”
A sliver of apprehension runs down Kurama’s spine.
“Time for what?”
“To find you a companion.”
“You don’t already have one picked out?”
“You weren’t ready.”
“Naruto.”
For the first time Naruto doesn’t meet his gaze.
“Naruto, how much time.”
“Two months… maybe three,” he admits in a quiet voice.
The apprehension deepens into dread.
“What is wrong?”
Naruto is silent for a long while before he speaks, his voice laced with sadness.
“From my conception to the time travel, we had been separated for only several hours at most, and my body has adapted to your chakra to the point where it needs it to keep functioning. I can emulate your chakra somewhat with senjutsu, but it’s not perfect, and my organs are slowly failing.”
He’s dying. The first person to offer Kurama love and acceptance since the Sage, and he’s dying from a lack of Bijuu chakra.
“No.”
Kurama doesn’t realize he’s spoken for a moment.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Naruto said quietly.
“I refuse to accept that.”
Kurama paused to consider the decision he’s impulsively jumped to, before realizing that it isn’t much of a decision at all.
“Bring out the seal.”
He refuses to be alone again, not now that he has a spark of hope.
Hope that also flickers across Naruto’s face before it fades, but he summons the scroll.
“It will only buy me a few years though.”
Kurama thinks for a moment.
“Your memories say that my chakra has mutagenic effects in humans.”
“It does.”
“Are there limiters in the seal to prevent excess mutation?”
“There are.”
“…Break them.”
Madara was so close to his goal that he had to refrain from grinning. Finally, he had finally tracked down the Kyuubi no Kitsune, and the beast would soon be his. He could have claimed any of the other Bijuu, some with far less work, granted, but why settle for something lesser when he could have the best?
Sunset was illuminating the Kyuubi’s Forest in the distance, one of several it had claimed over the years but the one it currently inhabited. By tomorrow, perhaps the day after, the beast will be his, and Konoha, Hashirama, will fall.
Rounding a bend in the road Madara paused as he noticed a contradiction sitting by a fire next to the road, obviously camping for the night. The man’s face said elderly, old in a way few ever reach, yet the vibrant shock of orange-red hair, the same color of the pelt of the fox curled up in the man’s lap, say youth.
“Hello there, traveler,” the man said, the fox in his lap eyeing him warily.
“Hello,” he responds warily, coming closer to the fire, though he doesn’t sit.
Madara continued to examine the strange man. His back was straight, his shoulders level, another thing at odds with his elderly face, confidence in his poise that clearly marks him as either a veteran shinobi or samurai. But the thing that startles Madara the most are the small black claws the man has instead of nails and that his blue eyes have a vertical pupil.
“What are you?” Madara breaths.
“Just an old man who wishes to see more of the world before he dies,” the man says lightly, before nodding to the Kyuubi’s Forest, “The redwoods in there are truly stunning to behold.”
“Is that so?”
Perhaps this man could help him.
“I’ve heard rumors that the Kyuubi no Kitsune lives in that forest. Are there any truth to those rumors?”
The man stared at him for quite a while. Madara feels as though he is under a microscope, though he shoves the feeling aside.
“I’m afraid you just missed him,” the man finally says.
What?
“The Kyuubi left the forest several days ago.”
…He’s not lying. FUCK.
Madara takes a deep breath to keep from snapping.
“Did you see which way it went?” he asks.
“North. It has been awhile since he has been in Lightning Country, you may wish to look there,” the man says.
Madara grits his teeth to keep from screaming. He just came from there.
“Thank you,” he snarls will ill grace before spinning on his heel and storming back the way he came.
“I know you don’t like this Hashirama, but we need to do something.”
“Madara has been after the Tailed-Beasts for years, he clearly hasn’t had any success.”
“Hasn’t had any…” Tobirama said in disbelief, “Have you been paying any attention to the reports crossing your desk? Numerous Beasts are missing! Their domains are abandoned! Madara clearly has decided that having one Tailed-Beast isn’t enough and is going around collecting them all. We have to do something.”
“The Jinchuuriki seals are ready,” Mito added, “If we can reach the Beasts before Madara we can seal them and use their power against him. There will be no shortage of volunteers.”
“Enough,” Hashirama said with finality, “We have had this conversation before. As I told you then, we will not go borrowing trouble…”
Something with an immense amount of chakra abruptly appeared to his senses, not far outside Konoha’s walls, followed by a second, then a third. A fifth. A ninth.
The three of them were already out the window and bounding towards the west gate, Tobirama calling for the alarm to be raised as they went. Hashirama wasn’t entirely sure what he was sensing was, but only Bijuu had chakra that immense. He couldn’t sense Madara, but it was possible that his chakra was being drowned out.
Slamming to a stop above the west gate he stared into forest. If the Bijuu were anywhere close to the stories about their size he should have been able to see them, yet their signatures were all clustered together on the path leading to the village, approaching at a walking pace. Odd.
“Stay here,” Hashirama ordered the shinobi manning the wall before bounding off it, Tobirama cursing and following, Mito right behind him.
Rounding a bend that shielded the road from sight of Konoha Hashirama slid to a stop in surprise. The chakra signatures belonged to nine humans, eight between the ages of six and twelve, and one adult with brilliant fox-red hair contrasting an elderly face and a red fox on his shoulder. The most surprising thing was the collection of animals with the group. There was the aforementioned fox, a cat, a tanuki, a monkey, a horse, an ox, a giant slug, a turtle, and a massive insect.
“Hello, Hokage-sama,” the man said cheerfully, “We have heard good things about Konoha and would like to move in. Can we?”