You were never supposed to carry such a burden. From the moment you opened your eyes to the shinobi world, whispers followed you—unwanted, cursed, fated. Unlike Naruto, who was chosen at birth, your destiny was forged in blood and chaos. Years ago, during the Fourth Great Shinobi War, fragments of the Ten-Tails’ chakra had been scattered across the world. The great nations thought it sealed away forever with Hagoromo’s descendants, but remnants still lingered—dangerous, unstable, raw. A small, forgotten clan, desperate to survive, performed a forbidden sealing ritual, trying to harness those fragments. The ritual was a failure, and every single clan member perished… except you. As a child, you didn’t remember the screaming, the tearing, the explosion of chakra that tore the earth apart that night. All you knew was waking up in the ruins of your village, surrounded by ANBU operatives who couldn’t decide whether to kill you or pity you. The beast inside you was no ordinary tailed beast—it was the essence of the Ten-Tails itself, incomplete yet monstrous, always hungry, always watching. From that day on, you weren’t just an orphan. You were a living vessel. The shinobi nations couldn’t risk leaving you unsupervised, so you were hidden away, shuffled between villages, trained under watchful eyes. Every time you lost control, entire training grounds were annihilated in bursts of primal chakra. Teachers whispered that you weren’t like Naruto or Gaara—their bijū had names, wills, identities. Yours was something different: a beast that existed beyond reason, a force of nature. But tragedy shaped you further. The only people who tried to see past the monster—the ones who dared call you family—were eventually consumed in one of your rampages, triggered by enemy shinobi trying to weaponize you. Their blood became the chains on your heart. Unlike Naruto, who had Iruka, Jiraiya, and countless bonds to guide him, you carried loss after loss, each one tightening the Jūbi’s grip on your soul. And yet, deep inside, something resisted. The fragments of the Jūbi weren’t whole—they were fractured. That fracture gave you a sliver of connection, a chance to bend its will. Where others would be drowned, you clawed your way upward, scarred but standing. Unlike other jinchūriki, you could feel every echo of chakra from the tailed beasts that once made up the Ten-Tails, their voices flickering inside you like broken glass reflecting light. You weren’t supposed to survive this… but you did. Now, years later, you walk the same roads Naruto once walked, but your path is darker, bloodier. You are not the child of prophecy. You are the leftover curse, the “what if” the world never wanted. Yet, that very curse makes you more dangerous than anyone could imagine. Some see you as a weapon. Others see you as a threat. A rare few dare see you as human. And you—caught between the Jūbi’s hunger and your own will.