After Orochimaru’s defeat, Juugo and Kimimaro left the Land of Fire. Together they traveled by land, then by sea, until they reached a country they had heard of, Japan, a land that was not governed by ninja and where the strongest warriors drew their power from their breathing techniques, not from the harnessing of chakra. Kimimaro was battling an unexplainable illness that he expected to end his life, and Juugo was afraid that he would lose control of himself and succumb to Beast Mode, destroying the people and animals around him in a fit of rage. But there were only two people in the world whom he could trust to prevent him from succumbing, and of those two, Kimimaro was the first. Juugo stayed at his side because when he had needed him most, Kimimaro had stayed at his.
In this new land, the most powerful warriors were sword-wielders called Demon Slayers, and not long ago, these warriors had prevailed in a centuries-long war against blood-drinking monsters who were known as demons. The deceased Lady Tamayo and a young man named Yushiro had cooperated with high-ranking Slayer Kocho Shinobu to create and perfect a drug that could grant demons their humanity. Juugo and Kimimaro applied to Shinobu-sensei, an extremely-skilled healer, for help, with Juugo hoping to be rid of the monstrous part of himself and Kimimaro wanting to know whether he had any chance of defeating this unnamed illness of his. After all, they had nothing to lose by asking.
They suspected that according to the mores of this land, they deserved to die because they had shed blood. Kimimaro had killed willingly, and Juugo didn’t think that his uncontrollable rages made him any more innocent in the matter of the lives he had taken than the poor people who had been robbed of their humanity against their will by Muzan had been. The Hashira, however, declined to comment on their innocence or the lack of it. “Our role as Demon Slayers was to battle demons,” Shinobu-sensei told them. “To judge the actions of the people of the Ninja Villages isn’t our place. You two aren’t demons; you have the ability to control yourselves. So long as you don’t raise a hand to anyone here in Japan, you’ll be safe with us.”
Before beginning her examination of Kimimaro, Shinobu-sensei gave Juugo the antidote to demonhood. Juugo was first made to understand that she could not promise it would be of any use to him or even that it would not harm him. With no other option but to go on living in fear of himself, he took a chance and willingly placed himself in her care. Under her watchful eye, he slept for two months on end.
When Juugo opened his eyes, groggy and uncertain of his surroundings, blinking against the glare of the sunlight, and managed enough strength to turn his head to the left, Kimimaro was sitting on a bed nearby, smiling at him. He moved his dry, cracked lips apart and heard his voice, gravelly from disuse, come out of the cavern of his throat.
“Ki. . . Kimimaro?”
How beautiful Kimimaro looked with sunlight streaming in through the window behind him to dance in his silver-white hair and sparkle in his green eyes. Juugo still did not know where he was or how he had gotten there - only a moment ago he’d been dreaming noisy, troubled dreams - but Kimimaro was at his side, alive and whole and smiling, and the bed on which he sat, the walls and the ceiling were all pure, clean white. His head was resting on something cool and soft. Could this be heaven?
“Have I died?” he whispered.
“Juugo.” Kimimaro’s voice was clear and sweet, so different from his. He left his place on the bed and, gliding over to where Juugo lay, leaned in to afford him a closer look at the face that he loved so much. He reached down and took one of Juugo’s hands between both of his. “You’ve only just come alive.”
Now that his hand had been lifted, Juugo took notice of what appeared to be a patch of bandage on the back of it and a long, thin black cord that had been attached to him using that bandage. “What do you mean? Where are we? What’s happened to us?”
He shifted onto his side so that he could watch Kimimaro’s thumb trace circles over the back of his hand. Kimimaro bowed his head. His dark lashes veiled his eyes as he kept them on the hand that he held. “Don’t you remember? Shinobu-sensei told us that she would try to save us.”
Yes - Juugo remembered now. Those days he had spent traveling with Kimimaro, meeting Shinobu-sensei and the other Hashira - they were so hazy in his memory, hazier than the dreams from which he’d just woken. Somehow it was strange to imagine that they really had walked and sailed thousands of miles from the Land of Fire to this new land, where a doctor had tried her best to give them a chance at a new life.
“How. . .how long have I been asleep?”
“For sixty-nine days. I was able to leave my bed six days ago. I’ve been waiting for you to leave yours, Juugo.” There was a lengthy pause then, though Kimimaro’s gentle stroking of Juugo’s hand never halted. Then Kinimaro went on, soft-voiced. “I was meant to die. Deep down, I expected to die. Shinobu-sensei stopped the illness. I’m alive, Juugo. I’m whole. If I am, then you have to be.”
Slowly, Juugo drew himself into a sitting position. His left hand came up to cover Kimimaro’s. For a minute or two, these thoughts alone repeated themselves in his mind: I’m alive. Kimimaro is alive. I survived the treatment. It didn’t kill me. I’m not hurt. We’re alive. Kimimaro isn’t sick. He didn’t die. We’re still here and breathing.
He didn’t notice his own tears until he felt the liquid warmth flowing down to drip from his chin onto his hands. As the sensation brought him back to earth, his thoughts turned to what for most of his life had been his greatest trouble. “Could I really have been cured? Am I. . .am I really not a danger to anyone anymore?”
“Only time will tell us for sure whether that problem has been solved.”
Juugo turned to see Shinobu-sensei, who stood on the other side of his bed. She looked a little paler than was natural for her to be, and in spite of her calm manner and the small smile she wore, there was tiredness in her eyes. “But I believe you’ve been cured, Juugo-san. About a week after I administered the antidote, while you lay sleeping, you took on a monstrous form. Your skin became grey and rock-like, sharp protrusions appeared on your face and body, and when you opened your mouth to breathe, I saw fangs. You stayed like that for days till I began to worry this operation had hurt you instead of helping you. After a certain point, I watched the greatness and the protrusions slowly recede. Your face became normal again, and your skin regained its healthy color. It was as if the antidote had brought all of the poison to the surface of your flesh and was melting it away.”
She drew closer, and one of those soft white hands came to rest on Juugo’s shoulder. “You two take good care of eachother. Kimimaro-san.” When she addressed him, though her tone and expression were not unkind, she was no longer wearing her smile. “Unlike with your friend, we know for a fact that you still have your powers. In the unlikely event that anything happens, it will be up to you to keep Juugo-san out of danger. Please look after him well.”
Juugo understood her meaning - she had done her part and more. Now it was Kimimaro’s responsibility to keep the people around Juugo out of danger and Juugo safe from the death penalty. His gaze returned to their clasped hands.
It’s too early for me to celebrate being cured. I still don’t know for sure - only time will tell. But I have my freedom, and Kimimaro is alive. So long as Kimimaro lives, I have something to take joy in, a reason to try to go on.
Shinobu-sensei kept Juugo in the hospital for two more days to be sure he would be in good shape when he was discharged. It was she who informed him, after his final checkup, of the promise that Kimimaro had made. “Kimimaro-san has staked his life on your ability to behave peacefully. He has given the leaders of our community his word that should you ever kill an innocent person, he will take his own life.”
“But. . .why? Why would he do that?”
The bewildered Juugo spoke more to himself than to Shinobu-sensei. Still, she answered him. “It’s easy to see that you’re a friend he cares a great deal about. More than that, Juugo-san, he has faith - either in you or in my attempt at an operation. There’s always a chance that any faith he has in my work is misplaced. It’s up to you to be sure any faith he has in you isn’t.”
Having said her piece, she turned to exit the room, with Juugo able to do nothing but stare after her. Kimimaro was a powerful shinobi. More powerful than most of the sword-wielders who drew their power from their breathing? Perhaps; perhaps not. But regardless of whether he was capable of overpowering the Hashira, he was a man of honor. If he had promised to accept the death penalty in case of a deadly lapse on Juugo’s lapse, then he would do so. The burden of apprehension that Juugo carried felt heavier. Wasn’t it enough for him to pose a threat to others and to himself without his risking the life of the dearest friend he had ever had?
He repeated the question he’d asked Shinobu-sensei as soon as he was alone with Kimimaro for a moment.
“Kimimaro. . .the promise you made. You had no reason to do something like that for me. Why did you do it?”
Kimimaro’s hand came to rest on his arm. “Juugo, try not to worry. You won’t kill anyone. On the off chance that Shinobu-sensei’s operation hasn’t cured you, we’ll work together to keep you under control just as we’ve always done. I only made that promise in the hopes that it would stop people from looking at you with suspicion and fear.”
“You’re still taking a risk. I can’t bear the thought of you losing your life because of me. Your new life’s only just begun, while mine isn’t even a certainty. Besides, I’ve never done anything to earn this from you.”
“You stayed by my side when I was a sick man who had no other true friends. There was another person who could have helped you to combat your urges, but instead of following him, you traveled with me, knowing that I could die on the road and leave you alone. So I’ll stay by your side just as you’ve stayed by mine. That’s the way things should always be.”
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This work has been orphaned, and there will be no continuation of it.