Six Years Too Long

Chapter 30

Third person pov

Flowers, Kurama has come to find, are far more resilient than he thought. 

There is no sun here. It is dark in the sewers of Naruto Uzumaki's mind, and Kurama had idly wondered time and time again where these flowers get their nutrients from. They have yet to wilt, still spry and with petals that bounce, their wiry stems swaying in an invisible breeze.

They are all different shades of pastel, whites and pale pinks and light yellows. The grass that pokes up between them is a bold contrast, but then, grass has always been known to be a little pushier. It's not as sensitive, able to grow up through thin cracks in the concrete, able to thrive in even the worst conditions. 

Maybe it's because the flowers aren't real. They-- they are, but not in the sense that they are a part of nature, in the sense that they are physical. They are mental constructs, solid only within the confines of this mind. And yet... 

Here, it is sour. Kurama feels that anything that exists in too close proximity of him, for too long, should rot away. It seems only natural that they should. He is putrid, monstrous and cruel. He is a poison, and the flowers should be his victims.

Should be, but aren't. 

They remain untouched by his storm from earlier. The crashing waves had not left the destruction Kurama had expected in their wake. Instead... Instead, what is left seems to be more. More flowers, continuing to rapidly sprout and spread. There is a long strip of them now, thin but present, that stretches the entire length of his gargantuan cage.

Kurama is known to lay waste. He wreaks havoc and brings only despair wherever he goes. He is fear in solid, tangible form. He is used to bringing forth only ruin. For as long as he can remember, all he's ever done is burn things down. Never has he created, and never something so fragile.

He hadn't thought he had the potential for it. Not really. But these flowers-- he feels them as they rise, in a way he did not feel the first ones. Those one's came from Naruto, he is certain. From some sort of acceptance, some sort of equilibrium the brat had reached far before Kurama did.

Now, Kurama feels level. The cards are all on the table. And as he listens to Naruto talk, as he listens to Naruto defend him?

More flowers spindle out alongside other plants, still young and budding. They flourish, all life and warmth and things he never thought would exist for him in a place like this. Strangely, his cage feels less like it's barring him and more like a home-- something he has not had in a very, very long time. 

A den, his mind supplies. A place in the world. Somewhere he belongs. Somewhere he is supposed to be. It is impossible to think it, but it is true. Here, Kurama is wanted as he is. He doesn't know how. He doubts he will ever fully understand, and he is not ashamed to admit it. 

More flowers spring into existence, blossoming larger and taller, small bushes that rustle and expand with eager consistency. Kurama watches them and he laughs. He laughs and laughs until he cries, hunched over, paws over his eyes and ears back. He bares his teeth in a smile and a sob, unable to pick between the two.

In the ground, the roots of a tree begin to take, still a thin sprout on the surface with no more than two tiny leaves. It has found a home here too, a place to be lovely and anchor itself, a place to settle and stretch. To rest weary bones, to simply be and not be axed for it.

The roots are still new. They could still be plucked out, not strong enough to fight for their place just yet. If allowed, they will lengthen and climb across Naruto's mindscape. It is still young, but it is not hesitant. It wants not just to live, but to thrive.