A demon huh? My demon is as real as yours is. From my birth, my upbringing was not what most people would consider a happy one. To ensure that I became the strongest of Shinobi, my father had cast his ninjutsu on me, infusing my unborn self with the sand spirit. I destroyed the life of the woman who had given birth to me. I was born a monster. Its name is Shukaku and it's the living incarnation of an old monk of the Sand Village who'd been sealed up in a jar of tea.
Yeah some kind of demonic jutsu. But to use it on a baby before it's even born? Man that's creepy.
Could it be true? He's got one inside of him too?
[sarcastically] Gee what a swell guy your dad must've been. He really must have loved you a lot.
You speak of love? Don't measure me by your standards. Love. Family. The only emotional ties I have to my family are the ones I'd like to wrap around their necks. They're only ties of hate. Given life by the death of my mother, I was brought into being and nurtured as the salvation of the village. I was the Kazekage child. My father taught me the innermost secrets of the Shinobi. He pampered and protected me and left me to myself. For a time I thought that was love. And that was when everything started.
When what started?
What was it? Are you gonna tell us or not? So go on. What started? What was it?
In the 6 years since I became 6 years old, my father tried to destroy me more times than I can count. [they shudder]
You just finished saying how your father pampered and protected you. So which is it?
Those who get to be too strong are apt to become feared. The jutsu that gave me birth had unbalanced something in my mind. Even the fools in my village finally realized I had emotional problems. My father the Kazekage had created me as his ultimate weapon. But I eventually became a threat to the very village I was meant to save. By the time I was 6, I became a figure of terror to the villagers. To them I was a relic of the past that they wished would disappear. So you see, I had failed at the one purpose for which I was given life. What then was left for me in this existence? Why go on living? For a long time I couldn't find an answer to that. But in order to live you need a purpose. To exist for no reason is the same as being dead.
What is this guy talking about?
I know just what he means exactly. He's... he's the same as me.
Then in time the answer came to me. To put it simply my reason for living is in the killing of others. For years I lived in fear of those who were sent to murder me, but now I am at peace. I killed many would be assassins. And it was while I was doing it that the truth was made clear to me. I live solely for myself. I love only myself. As it was the death of my mother that first gave me life, now it is the death of others that sustains me. That makes me happy to be alive. And there's no end to it as long as there are still people to kill in this great wide crowded world.
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