Wake up, child.
The child was surprised to hear my voice. They always are. "Hello?"
The poor thing's eyes were darting around his empty hospital room, searching for the voice.
No, child. A voice like this doesn't come from outside.
The boy stopped, and then ventured a question. "Why does your voice sound so…much?"
I laughed. Few things are harder to predict than the imagination of a child. Because it's in your head, young one.
"In… my head?"
Now he was getting it. Yes, in your head. It seems that we are going to be rooming together up here.
"I'm sharing… my head?"
Yes, child.
"Are you… another part of my personality? A spirit?"
In a way. I hate saying this next part. A lot.
I am Kokuō.
The child paused. "The demon?"
I sigh. Demon sounds so much worse than Tailed Beast.
Yes, the demon.
"What happened to my cousin Mako? Your host?"
My previous host, child.
The boy was silent. He was trying to hold in his next question, but it finally came tumbling out.
"Did you do it?"
The burden of carrying a tailed beast inside someone is not easy to bear. Mako Kisamori had lost control of me when he had a heart attack, which is why I had been placed inside this young boy.
No, child. I offered these words, but felt no weight in them; the humans are conditioned not to trust my kind. I was ready for another life shared with a human host full of resentment and hate -
"I believe you."
Huh. Maybe things would be different this time around.
You do? You are the first person to believe me in a very long time.
"Every time someone in the village talks about you, they talk about someone they lost in your last rampage, or how you are a curse, and… now that I've finally met you, it just doesn't seem right. I don't think you're lying."
Thank you, child. May I know your name?
"I'm Jiro. Jiro Kisamori."
Nice to meet you.
The child had been holding in another question. He finally asked it after a brief pause.
"Do you… do you know why I was made your host?"
That's your question to answer, child.
"You can't give me an answer?"
I can give you an answer. Many people can give you an answer. In fact, everyone you meet will give you an answer - some will say that you are a weapon of war, a symbol of the village's power, or maybe even the village's protector. But I can't give you the answer. No one can.
"So… there's no right answer to this question?"
Of course there is. The right answer is the one you choose.
The child was quiet. He had a lot to think about, and so did I. I was usually sealed inside, deep inside my host, to the point that I wouldn't even meet them until years after the surgery, when they underwent something so traumatic that seal after seal used to keep me in finally failed. Usually, those seals took the form of a cave, whose opening was closed off by metallic bars that were stories tall. This time, there was a hole in the side of the cell. I couldn't take control, but I could talk to the boy through it, and feel what he was feeling. There was a carving next to the hole, the initials M.K., which I could only guess was for Mako Kisamori.
There was something else I was wondering about. I can remember each of my previous host's deaths, but Mako's was… blurry. He wasn't focused on trying to survive - he was focused on me, trying to tell me something. I remember him saying, "tell Jiro… tell Jiro that -"
The memory cuts out after that. I liked Mako, and I liked this boy… Jiro. Something about him was different. I was going to take care of him. I had a feeling he'd need it.