Hiei’s eyes roll at the question. Of course he wants to get better. More than anything he would love to no longer have to think about this mysterious illness, about everything stacking up to be done while he languishes and never seems to not be tired. And yet here he is, exhausted and nauseous and hoping that the redhead will leave at some point so he can be miserable alone trying to hold down his light dinner. Above anything it is incredibly annoying that this seems to cling to him like a leech somehow.

They both know the root of it, to some extent, and Hiei is still unwilling to just say it and possibly lighten his own load despite this.

His stomach lurches again, stronger this time, and Hiei’s face slips in to annoyance that is thankfully, somewhat explainable.

“Of course I do. I can’t possibly think of anything worse than staying so tir-“ Hiei is still blessedly fast, a hand clamping over his own mouth as his stomach forces his hand. There’s no hiding it now, even as Hiei still stubbornly fights his body’s want to firmly eject his dinner.

It takes him a moment, and no doubt Kurama’s picky nose will smell the bile in his mouth when he finally speaks again.

“- so tired.”

So much for signs of improvement.