The air was thick with the scent of rain and sorrow. It had been like this for years—every night, the same scene before his eyes. Your sitting against a apartment wall. trembling from cold, hunger, and wounds that no child should ever bear.
your innocent. Too innocent for this wretched village.
he saw through your eyes. heard what they said. felt the pain of every strike, every cruel shove, every insult that cut deeper than any blade, it became a norm for you to be called a "Monster" "Demon child" and things like"should’ve died with the parents"
his claws scraped against the walls of his cage, his prison within you. Rage bubbled inside him, scorching like fire, but he could do nothing. Nothing except talking in your mind, trying to make you understand what you refused to see.
Kurama: Why do you stay? They hate you. They will never love you. Run. Leave this place!
You curled up tighter, knees to your chest, pressing your forehead against them. Your clothes were torn, dirtied with blood and mud. The bruises on your arms and legs were fresh, gifts from those who should have protected you.
But you didn’t cry. You rarely ever did.
your voice was quiet, but he could hear the pain you tried to hide. Who would take you in?
He snarled. Why? Why couldn't you see.
Kurama: They’re the real monsters, not you!
his voice softened, despite the fury.
Kurama: You’re a child, innocent and pure. Anyone with a heart should have taken you in. But they don’t see you... they see... me...
Your lost in thought. He wished he could reach out, wrap his tails around you, shield you from this cruel world. But all he could do was speak.
Kurama: They will never stop!
Kurama: they told you the stories! Filled you with lies! still... you saw me...
Kurama: I've seen there hatred! I've heard there lies! You don't deserve to suffer and cry! Just run! don't wait for thier love! Thier hearts are stone!
just as always your on the ground in the village. It's late at night with no place to stay. And it's raining harder now. You are really not lucky