It was a scientifically proven fact that energy could not be destroyed; and that's what Kyuubi was. Energy. A figurine of chakra and the impending demise of Konoha.
Well, not if he could help it.
When the reports first came in, he snorted and called the whole thing 'a product of the evils of sake'. This was one of the few times he made a mistake.
As he governed over his beloved town, the whispers turned to rumors, rumors into gossip, gossip into reports, and reports into nightmares. He remembered clearly when the first casualty came in. He also remembered when the two hundredth casualty reached his ears.
At the cost of his loyal subordinate's lives, he learned about the creature; it was a massive maelstrom of havoc, leaving no town upturned and massacred. When provoked, the eyes were as crimson as the spilled fluids of its victims. The monster housed powers that even the Kami's could not rival, and the red fur was either bred or a solid layer of blood.
And so he fought it.
With every blow that he landed, he received twice as much damage. For every shuriken that plunged into the beast's flesh, his arms were scorched by the demon's chakra. It took him three hours before he realized the futility of his efforts.
And so he fled.
Over the next few days, he gathered more intelligence about it. His most loyal advisor relayed to him the crucial facts that helped him formulate a plan to defeat the monster, right before he was killed.
What a pity, he had thought. What a gigantic pity. There was still so much he had yet to do, but it seemed that his time was cut short. But the most pitiful thing out of all he felt regret for was the fact that his hastily conceived plan relied on a child. His child. His and her child. The town's child. Their savoir.
Yes, what a pity.
Maybe one day he would be a hero. Maybe one day his child would be a Hokage. Maybe one day there'd be an Uzumaki bloodline.
And as he lay upon the bloodied grass, thinking these thoughts, before his life was eclipsed by the shadow of End, one final tendril of consciousness entered his head.
Why did I do it?
…it could have been for love, for heroics, for honors…but who gives a damn.
