Kurama swatted another dozen or so humans as Madara forced him onwards towards the Leaf, controlling him and making him go on a destructive rampage.
Kurama was no coward, but if it were up to him, he'd be running in the opposite direction and probably be half-way to Tea by now. He did not want to get sealed inside a whiny little girl and spend a century watching the smutty romance soap that was her and her successor's life. Again.
But as it was, his massive bulk of raw power was smashing its way through the burning forest and towards the village. Again. As he swatted group after group of weak humans (again), he couldn't help but admire the humans' courage and fearlessness. They were desperately charging him, knowing full well that they would die, but they were clearly not afraid for themselves. The Ky ūbi had been alive for over one thousand years and had razed millions of villages over the millennia. He knows fear very well, and the soldiers trying to slow him down were afraid, but not for themselves. They feared for their families and village, feared what would happen to them if they failed to stop him. They did not fear death, and he admired that, because he did.
If the humans had found out, they would be incredulous. The great Kyūbi no Yoko, greatest of the Bijū, feared death?! They wouldn't understand how, considering the fact that he would simply be reincarnated. He would only miss a few months, what is that for an immortal?
Only that is not how it worked. Death is not that easy.
Shukaku had once been a pretty nice guy. He was friendly, polite and humble, if a bit dull. Then he died. When he was reincarnated, he had a very different personality. He became, rude, boisterous, cocky, volatile, irritating and just plain loud. He started to act like he was the best at everything, like he was the strongest. Kurama had trouble restraining himself and not ripping the Tanuki's throat out. One thing had become clear to them from that: If you die, you're dead. Your power and being will be resurrected, but it won't be you. It'll be someone else, a new personality. If you die, there is no coming back.
And he feared that. The humans would, at least, be remembered and honoured for their sacrifice. No-one will realize that he's dead; they would all think that he came back, and judge him on the actions of the new Kyūbi as well as his own. He didn't like that. That is why he healed his hosts' wounds, why he kept them from dying; He didn't want to die; He didn't want to disappear. He was afraid to die.
And while he didn't want to die, he didn't particularly want to be sealed again. He didn't want to see the soap that was his hosts' life (although this time it would be a whiny little boy's life, rather than a girl's). Which is why, when he found himself free of Madara's control and restrained by nothing but his dying ex-host's chains and about to be sealed inside her newborn son, he did everything in his power to kill the potential host. He cursed her and her husband as they flung themselves into his path. He cursed them when he they used their dying breaths to seal him within the child. He cursed them as he paced his new prison, where he would undoubtedly spend the following century. But still, it was better than dying.
His host's parents had been people of stature and rank, and he held within himself his unimaginable power. The boy was the last of his bloodline, the son of the Alpha of this wretched village. No-one would dare try to harm him until he was well trained and sent on missions. The Kyūbi would not have to protect his host at all for a good decade and would probably not have to do much once the boy grew and fought. He was not going to have to worry about the possibility of death for a long time, he thought smugly.
Boy was he wrong.
In the first two years of his host's life, the Kyūbi had to foil no less than one thousand, two hundred and thirty-two attempts on their lives. Those were only the three percent who got past the ANBU guards, who only had to prevent the seventy percent which had actually got past the planning stages (or had none). That number would double by the time his host started school at the age of eight. By then, Kurama had come to a conclusion.
'This kid will be the death of me...'