The next time he comes by, the fox is howling crazily. Naruto doesn't reply to the taunts and screamed insults. He just -- reaches out for the wall, and pushes, and pushes with all his strength and his crankiness and his rage at being unable to do anything else. He can feel the thud in his head when the brick -- the mental block, or whatever it was -- falls off on the other side, and then there's false wind ruffling his dream hair, and a ray of soft golden light that cuts through the reddish semi-obscurity.
Kyuubi's muzzle is against the bars, just four steps away. He doesn't look at Naruto. He looks at the tiny hole in the wall just outside his cage. His red eyes are half-closed, lids heavy; the wings of his nose are fluttering wildly.
At least he isn't making a racket anymore.
Naruto wakes up with his semi-permanent headache gone, and for a week straight he can smell so many things he needs to camp outside the city walls; the garbage cans are killing him.