Since that first time I got lost, I'd started visiting the old temple whenever I could sneak away. Grandpa Bunpuku was a breath of fresh air. In a village that smelled like industrial grease and sounded like a construction site, his little corner of the world was actually peaceful.
My dad, Sharyu, definitely knew I had a "secret base," but he didn't stop me. Maybe he figured a monk was a safe babysitter, or maybe he was just glad I had a place to chill that didn't involve breathing in sawdust. He even started letting me take extra water and snacks, probably as a silent "thanks" to the old guy for keeping me out of trouble.
Today, though, the vibe was off.
I pulled back the cloth curtain and saw Bunpuku on his usual cushion, but he wasn't meditating. He was hunched over, his knuckles white as he pressed his hands together. Cold sweat was dripping down his face, and his eyebrows were mashed together in a look of pure struggle.
The air in the room felt heavy thick and gritty, like a dust storm was trying to start inside the four walls. There was a low-frequency hum vibrating in the floor that made my teeth ache.
"Grandpa Bunpuku?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "You okay?"
Bunpuku cracked one eye open. He tried to give me his usual gentle smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Hey, Sayo... sorry, kid. I'm fine. It's just... my old friend is having a bit of a mid-life crisis today. He's being a real pain."
"Old friend?" I blinked.
Right then, Bunpuku's whole body shuddered. A wisp of dark, sandy-yellow energy Chakra, but way more intense than anything I'd seen in the shop leaked out of his chest. It didn't just float; it writhed like a snake. Even though it was just a tiny bit, it felt like standing next to an active volcano. It was dense, heavy, and radiated pure, unfiltered malice.
The wisp twisted in the air, forming a shape that looked vaguely like a snarling face.
"Stinky monk! You've had me in this cage for decades! I can't breathe! Let me out or I'll tear this whole village to pieces!!"
The voice was a ragged, savage roar that echoed in my head more than my ears. It was filled with enough hate to drown a city.
I instinctively tightened my grip on the doorframe, but I didn't run. My thirty-year-old brain was already override-switching the "fight or flight" response. As an engineer, I'd spent my life dealing with high-voltage equipment and temperamental machinery. This wasn't a demon to me it was a high-density energy life form that was currently in "red alert" status.
The wisp of sand-chakra noticed me. It whipped around, projecting a wave of pressure that nearly knocked me over.
"What is this? A brat? What are you staring at, kid! Look at me again and I'll turn you into a red smudge on the floor! Hehehe..."
If I were a normal four-year-old, I'd be crying for my mom. But honestly? I just felt kind of annoyed. It reminded me of a piece of lab equipment back in the States this old, expensive centrifuge that would scream and vibrate if you didn't balance the tubes exactly right. It was terrifying if you didn't know how it worked, but once you understood the logic, it was just a problem to solve.
I tilted my head and looked the sandy wisp right in its glowing "eyes."
"What are you supposed to be?" I asked, my voice calm. "And why are you stuck inside Grandpa? You sound... really unhappy."
The room went dead silent.
The wisp of chakra actually stopped twitching. It looked stunned. For a thousand years, people had either screamed in terror, tried to weaponize it, or tried to preach at it. Nobody had ever asked it if it was "unhappy."
"Un... unhappy?! Damn right I'm unhappy! I'm going stir-crazy in here!" Shukaku's voice rattled the floorboards. "I am the One-Tails Shukaku! The Great Tailed Beast! I'm not some house pet you can lock in a basement! I hate this monk! I hate all you humans!!"
My eyes lit up. One-Tails? Shukaku? Memory fragments from my old life clicked into place. This was a Tailed Beast. A massive, disaster-level energy source. My engineer brain started doing the math. High-density chakra aggregate? Check. Independent AI consciousness? Check. Extreme emotional instability? Check.
How do you even build a container for something like this? I wondered. The seal on Bunpuku must be a masterpiece of energy-circuit design.
"Shukaku, huh?" I muttered, treating the name like a technical term. "Look, I get it. Being stuck in a small space is boring. But when you throw a tantrum, you're making Grandpa Bunpuku feel like garbage. Also, honestly? You're being a little loud."
"Loud?! You're calling ME loud?!" Shukaku's chakra almost evaporated from pure outrage. "I'll show you loud! I'll"
"Shukaku."
Bunpuku's voice was weak, but it cut through the noise like a knife. The sandy wisp froze instantly, as if a leash had just been yanked tight. It hissed at me one last time, a look of pure confusion on its "face," and then got sucked back into Bunpuku's body.
The grit in the air settled. The hum in the floor died out.
Bunpuku let out a long, shaky breath and wiped his forehead. He looked at me with a look of total shock. "Sayo... kid... are you for real? You weren't scared?"
I shrugged. "I mean, I was surprised. But it just felt like it was really angry and lonely. Kind of like a machine that's overheating because it's got nowhere to vent."
Bunpuku went quiet. He looked at me for a long time, like he was seeing something he couldn't quite believe. "It's been a while since anyone's seen him as anything other than a monster. You've got a weird way of looking at things, kid."
He paused, his voice getting serious. "You've got a very special set of eyes, Sayo."
I didn't really get what he meant by that I didn't have any magic eyes as far as I knew. I just thought the big sand-raccoon was being a bit of a drama queen.
"Grandpa Bunpuku," I said, looking him in the eye. "If he starts acting up again, can I talk to him? I think explaining things works better than just yelling."
Bunpuku stared at me, then a genuine, relieved laugh broke out of his chest.
"You know what? Maybe you're right. I think you might be the only person in the world who could actually get him to listen."