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Shikanoin Heizou is no doctor. He’s a detective, which puts him closer to a coroner more than a medical professional. And though he does have an impressive amount of knowledge when it comes to the human body and its reactions to foreign substances, disease is a whole other beast that he has not needed to confront.

But maybe he should. Medicine and its practice has always been a subject that Heizou found intriguing but ultimately unapproachable; he had the fortitude and the patience, but bedside manners aren’t exactly his strong suit and disease can’t exactly be detained, not in the sense that people can, anyway.

And Kazuha is proving how much of a doctor he can’t be at the moment.

“It’s excess water. There’s no cause for concern,” Kazuha cheerfuly says when Heizou throws him a look after a particularly large sneeze. He had just dried himself off after accidentally falling into the shallows near Qingce village, having crossed the river from Chenyu Vale.

“Thick bamboo endures, but steady trunks cannot block the will of the wind,” Kazuha waxes poetic as Heizou catches him shivering through the bamboo grove. He places his haori over him to block the wind – not that it’s much of a breeze, but it’s enough that Kazuha accepts it after some back and forth about not wanting to dirty it.

And honestly, that should have been enough evidence conclude that Kazuha has been battling an illness. The man could summon a whirlwind a hundred times more devastating than that little gust.

“These lands have certainly flourished since my last visit. I can’t recall the pollen being this heavy,” Kazuha wheezes when they just passed the resting point after Stone Gate. Heizou couldn’t claim that he has more knowledge on flora than Kazuha has, certainly, but he at least knew that his wet cough wasn’t from the flowers; they’re on the tail end of winter. There are barely any flowers around.

“I’m not a professional, but I think you’re getting sick,” Heizou half teases, his usual smile faltering when he notices just how pale Kazuha’s skin has become. He thought it was just the mountain’s shadow casting tricks on his eyes, but now that they’re in broad daylight, he can tell just how worse off he’s faired since the start of their return journey to the harbor.

His boyfriend smiles at him, but his gaze is unfocused, unsteady as he only semi-admits to his condition. “I do seem to be a bit off-kilter today.”

Heizou drops his smile in favor of a full-on frown, and he reaches out to feel Kazuha’s forehead. Kazuha, somehow able to predict his movement, steps back just in time.

“What are you doing?” Heizou asks, baffled. Another step forward, another dodge from his sick-but-still-agile boyfriend.

“Nothing at all,” he replies, blinking. “What are you doing?”

Heizou swipes with his left hand this time. Kazuha sidesteps to the right.

“Trying to feel your temperature, mister ‘the breeze is cold’ Kazuha,” he retorts.

When he tries again, Kazuha catches his wrist with bandaged fingers and holds his hand close to his heart. “I’ll be all right. Wangshu Inn is just ahead, and we can rest there for the night.”

A little distracted by the heat of his fingers and the warmth of his own heart, Heizou hums in concern. “You sure you can make it the rest of the way?”

“I can,” Kazuha says in the same way that someone would say a vow. He brings Heizou’s fingers towards his lips and then hesitates, in spite of Heizou’s rising heartbeat. But instead of following through, he lowers his hand down again to hug his hand down to his chest, then lets him go.

You’re definitely sick, Heizou thinks wryly, his fingertips tingling with the urge to feel Kazuha’s lips on them.

“We’ll take it slow for the remainder of the trip,” he decides for the both of them, and this time Kazuha has no complaints.

With their slower pace, Heizou gets to enjoy the reflection of the sun and the reeds in the marsh, the cattails swaying in the breeze, and the peculiar sight of a man being stranded atop of a boulder by an enthusiastic dog. Liyue’s Statue of the Seven, fashioned in the image of the late geo archon, Rex Lapis, keeps dutiful watch of the land from upon his throne. Even a few vendors are peddling their wares as they draw closer to the inn. Throughout his sightseeing, he glances over to Kazuha every so often to keep tabs on his condition.

“Kazuha, how about we take a quick stop at that tea house, enjoy the scenery?” he suggests, gesturing to the small house just off of the roadside. That covered deck attached to its side looks perfect for a table where they could sit at and rest. Kazuha definitely needs it – his cheeks have gone from pale to flushed, and their walk across that last bridge has left him out of breath. If they can sit down for just a moment, Heizou could find a way to convince Kazuha to be carried for the rest of their trek. Heck, even he’s feeling a little tired from their trip.

Kazuha’s gaze drags over to the building in question and nods slowly. Even his voice sounds raspy. “All right.”

“Want me to order something for you?”

But before Heizou could get more than two steps ahead, he hears the clatter of a scabbard hitting the dirt followed by his boyfriend’s knees landing with a thump afterwards. He whips around and nearly dives to brace Kazuha from planting his face into the gravel.

“Kazuha!”

Kazuha sags against him. “A cup of jasmine, please.”

And then he passes out in Heizou’s arms.

Heizou is still not a doctor, but that’s not stopping him from wracking his brain for every known medicinal herb and alchemy component that he’s gained knowledge of over his course of his career. Liyue wouldn’t have any naku weed or onikabuto. That smugglers case had those shipments of cecillias, but they’re rare outside of Mondstat. Didn’t Kazuha say Beidou kept a cabinet full of herbs for this reason?

But at least the innkeeper is kind enough to let them in, even when she sees Kazuha draped over his back and clearly unwell, hair damp with sweat and shallow puffs of breath. Heizou doesn’t even need to explain himself.

“This way,” is all she says when he approaches the desk. She leads him back up the steps of the lobby and unlocks one of the rooms, revealing a cozy abode with a full sized bed that he immediately deposits Kazuha upon it before noticing much else. The innkeeper stays rooted at the threshold, clearly used to this kind of situation as her voice is firm, but not unkind.

“I’ll bring up water and some congee as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” he replies, finally turning to meet her gaze. It’s unusually sharp for an everyday innkeeper; Heizou’s intuition is telling him that customer service and handling rowdy guests aren’t her only strong suits. “My apologies for the unusual check-in. I’ll be down to sort it all out as soon as I get him settled.”

The red haired woman breaks into a small smile as she shakes her head. “Take your time. Those from the crew of the Alcor are always welcome here.”

So this is what the privilege of being on Captian Beidou’s crew looks like.

He thanks her again before she leaves for (presumably) the kitchen and Heizou closes the door after her, allowing him to fully focus on Kazuha.

As he rolls his aching shoulders, Heizou wracks his brain for a plan. What’s the first thing I should do?

Not panic, first of all. He may want to go over and shake the devil out of him and beg for him to wake up, but that clearly won’t get them anywhere. Labored as it might be, he can still see Kazuha breathing and that’s always a good sign.

On that same note, Kazuha should be able to breathe easier once he takes all of his armor and accessories off, so he starts on that. His sword and scabbard are the first to go. The sandals go next, then the greaves. The hardest part is pulling the pauldron strapped to his shoulder away, and by the time Heizou gets to Kazuha’s hand guards, he feels a smidgen out of breath himself.

But Kazuha does look more comfortable. Both of their haori have been shrugged off and his scarf has been loosened. It’s only after Heizou wriggles away the blankets from underneath him and tucks him in properly that he stirs.

“You gave me quite a scare when you passed out,” He explains when Kazuha’s eyes crack open and a confused grimace adorns his face, “We’re at Wangshu Inn. How are you feeling?”

Kazuha groans quietly as he tries to sit up, his every movement strained and shaky. Heizou rushes to prop the pillows behind his back and slips his hand underneath Kazuha’s bangs. His skin feels scalding against his fingers: a definite rise in temperature since their short trip from the tea stall.

“I’m sorry,” Kazuha mutters with a repentant frown, which to Heizou feels like a soft punch to his heart.

He replaces his hand with his forehead and leans in to touch noses. Kazuha blinks.

“Instead of feeling sorry, I want you to take care of yourself. I know that’s a tall order when it’s coming from me since we both know I’m the king of self-negligence, but how about we make a bargain? You rest up now, and I won’t be a huge pain in the ass when you have to take care of me later.”

“You shouldn’t have to be sick because of me,” he counters weakly.

“I never said I’d get sick from whatever you have now, just in the future.” he says, pulling away enough to wave off the notion with his hand, “And I promise, I’ll do my best to keep healthy while I take care of you,” And that’s likely going to be the harder part of this fiasco, if he’s being honest with himself. Anything for Kazuha, though.

Kazuha searches his face for a moment and squeezes his hand, a real smile spreading to his lips. “All right, I accept.”

Heizou gently squeezes his hand in satisfaction. Kazuha looks beautiful with that smile, even with his mussed hair and reddened nose.

“Perfect! Then lay back, relax, and let me take care of the rest,” he says with all of the confidence of a doting boyfriend and none of the skills he needs to back it up.

Shikanoin Heizou sucks at being a caretaker, both when he has to take care of himself or others. That doctorate in medicine is looking less likely by the minute.

He knows the purpose of keeping cool rags on Kazuha’s forehead is to cool him down, but how often does it need to be changed? Is there a range of temperature for the water that he should adhere to? Is it dependent on Kazuha’s temperature? And when Kazuha mutters that he’s freezing, is it better to pile more blankets on top of him, or would that make his fever worse?

“You’re a worryer, aren’t you?” Boss Verr – who he later introduced himself to when he sorted out their fee – replies when he asks for a third set of washcloths to swap out with the used ones. She hands him not only another set of clean rags, but a fresh bucket, too, which comes in handy when Kazuha later pukes up his congee.

And, sure. That does describe his current state even if it paints his mannerisms in broad strokes. His whole career is based on noticing the small details to make sense of the bigger picture, and he can’t turn that part of his brain off no matter how mind-numbly simple his task is, like sitting around to wait for this illness to pass. His hands and his brain are itching to do something productive, something that can fight whatever is incapacitating his boyfriend. At least waiting during stake outs have a clear outcome; either he catches the perpetrator in the act or they never show up. Here, the disease is already committing the deed in broad daylight and there’s nothing he can do about it.

So despite being provided with a spare futon, Heizou finds himself sitting at his bedside frustratingly awake, brushing his thumb over Kazuha’s knuckles as the other sleeps. Pale moonlight seeps through the gauze curtains and hugs the outline of the mess of covers and Kazuha’s face. His old, terrible friend – guilt – comes to greet him during this time, and it guides his thoughts to when Kazuha first showed signs. Should they have stopped in Qingce village, right then and there? Should he have insisted that they rest, that it would be better for Kazuha to make sure he wasn’t getting worse as time went on? Or would it not have mattered anyway?

He tugs his fingers through his hair and sighs, allowing a ragged frown to settle upon his lips while no one is looking. Wallowing in his own pity isn’t going to do them any good, and certainly not great for keeping his promise. Maybe the inn has a text on local remedies that he could browse through while he waits –

Something – something dark, which should be impossible to see in the already dim room wafts beside him. His senses go on alert and his body reacts upon instinct, pulling him off of his chair. A figure forms. Pale, smaller frame, wearing a distinct mask that reminds him of the youkai from back home. One hand reaches for Kazuha so quietly that Heizou could have mistaken the movements as a wisp of wind if he weren’t watching.

Heizou shoots his hand out and snatches the stranger by the wrist, and bristles.

“State your name and your intent.”

Gold eyes peer at him from beneath the mask, and the feeling that he’s touched something wrong sends shivers down his back, though he holds his ground. No way in hell would he let some intruder touch him. Not when Kazuha is so vulnerable, not when he’s depending on him.

They stay frozen in this position for seconds, neither of them willing to budge.

“My name is Adeptus Xiao,” a raspy male voice replies, relaxing his stance to face Heizou. “And I have come to alleviate Kaedehara’s condition. Stay out of my way, or I will not hesitate to dispose of you.”

“I think you’re forgetting that you’re the one who barged in here,” Heizou says, releasing his wrist. So the guy’s already prone to violence, not a great sign. “How do you know Kazuha?”

Xiao tilts his head to remove the mask, revealing a pale face with a dire frown, one that he can barely make out in the dimness of the room.

“Kaedehara and I have fought side by side to aid a mutual friend, a traveler with blonde hair and a fairy companion.”

Heizou’s eyes widen. The traveler, a friend among all of them. Either the world is impossibly small or their foreign blonde friend has a personal goal to meet every living being in Teyvat. But aside from calling the traveler over to vouch for Xiao, there is only one other way he could know for sure.

“Show me your teapot sigil.”

Golden eyes narrow.

“A waste of time. What need of you to see my sigil?”

Heizou fights back a huff as he digs into his pockets to procure his own. Is that a headache he feels coming on? “Listen, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours, and we can both rely on the belief that our mutual traveler friend is a good judge of character.”

Xiao scoffs at the suggestion, loud enough to make him glance over to see if it disturbed Kazuha.

“Outside. There’s better light there and Kazuha needs his rest, don’t you think?” Heizou adds.

Finally, after a terse second when Heizou is preparing to defend himself and Kazuha, Xiao releases a short growl and stalks towards the door. He’s remarkably light on his feet; not a sound creaks through the floorboards as he moves.

“Worthless,” Xiao mutters under his breath.

The word jabs at him, but Heizou easily brushes it off as he follows him out into the hall and positions himself in front of the door. He might not be able to keep Xiao out, but his proximity to the door close enough for him to react in a flash.

Now that they’re in the brightly lit lobby, he can see Xiao’s features in full. His skin looks even paler than Kazuha’s in his current state, but not sickly. And he’s shorter than Heizou made him out to be – it’s the way he seems to carry himself, like he’s holding an eon’s worth of time in his bones, coupled with the unique clothing that he hasn’t seen much of within Liyue’s borders. The frown on his face seems to be permanent, even as he summons a familiar wooden token in his hands.

“The traveler’s sigil,” he snips, holding it just beyond arm’s length. Heizou inspects the carvings of runes, the smoothness and color of the wood, and he compares it to his own. It looks right. That incredible liminal space which the traveler owns is one-of-a-kind, much like how the sigils he distributes to his friends are a part of a unique set. No one else should have one, and if anyone were to acquire a sigil by other means, they wouldn’t know how to use it.

Heizou smiles, revealing his own to Xiao. “Well then, looks like we’re friends of a friend. The name’s Shikanoin Heizou.”

Xiao’s eyes flicker down to the sigil, then puts away his own in favor of crossing his arms. Not the most welcoming response to his introduction, but he can make an exception given the circumstances.

“My purpose for coming here still stands. Whether you tell me or I inspect him myself, I intend to find out.”

Heizou’s smile falters as a small sigh escapes him. “He’s not fairing well. High fever, chills, cough, low appetite, vomiting, sinus issues. He’s been sleeping most of the time since we’ve gotten here.”

Xiao remains silent as his gaze sweeps to the floor, clearly in thought.

“I haven’t sensed the presence of god remains, so this malady must be of a natural occurrence.”

God remains. Even the land of contracts still has to deal with the remnants of ancient wars. “I can confirm that. He hasn’t come in contact with any sort of remains in our time together.”

Xiao nods, his mind seemingly made up. “Verr Goldet and Huai’an have already sent for Dr. Baizhu, but I have seen him treat this kind of illness before. Come with me.”

He doesn’t give Heizou the time to protest with the way he disappears in a void of black and wisps of smoke, only to reappear on the lower floor of the lobby. Not the most charming or social guy that Heizou has met, though sadly, not the worst. Xiao eyes him impatiently as he moves down the stairs, though says nothing and turns to walk towards the kitchen area for Heizou to follow.

“So, do you have an interest in medicine?” he tries to ask casually as his new acquaintance shuffles through the ingredients on one of the shelves. Kazuha has mentioned to him about the adepti of Liyue on occasion, including one who liked to invent machinery, and another who lives at this very inn. It’s likely that Xiao is the latter of the two, considering how fast he pulls out a small lacquered box from the back of the stock. He places it on the counter in the middle of the floor and lifts the lid, revealing brittle stalks of purple flowers, carefully sun dried with the stem intact.

“No.”

…

No, full stop. Heizou even waits for a few beats, but all the adeptus does is transfer one of the stalks to a mortar, stripping the leaves and petals off in one fluid motion. He rubs his temples as that little headache pulses in tandem with his frustration.

“Oh. Well, since you sound confident in identifying whatever Kazuha has, I thought that you might dabble in the subject.”

Xiao merely grunts in response, his focus remaining entirely on grinding the leaves with the pestle.

Definitely the loner type. How did Kazuha handle this guy?

Though with Kazuha’s personality, it wouldn’t come as a surprise if the two of them said only a handful of words to each other and let their actions do the talking. The ronin is far from prickly, the opposite of his adeptus friend here, but his personality brings a natural calm to any social situation. Unless it doesn’t, but then that means they’re not around for friendly chatter.

It comes as a mild surprise when Xiao eventually responds.

“When the traveler last came here, he fell ill in a similar manner. His symptoms were among the worse cases Dr. Baizhu has seen.” And as Xiao continues to grind, he hears the stone groan underneath as it scrapes harder against the surface, and he sees the way Xiao’s fingers clench around the tool as if he’s about to pulverize the stone itself. A flicker of...Heizou couldn’t call it fear, there is so much more to that crease in his brow than one solid emotion, but it disappears in the blink of an eye.

“He’s usually so energetic. It’s hard to think of him bedridden,” Heizou supplies, “Paimon must have been distraught.”

Xiao scoffs, drawing his head to the side to keep from disturbing the powder. “When she wasn’t crying, she was disturbing Yanxiao with what she called ‘stress eating’.”

“It can’t be helped with how attached she is to him. As a matter of fact, I can’t ever recall a time I haven’t seen them together.”

If there’s one fact he can count on, it’s the universal truths of Paimon. Even Xiao agrees with his observation, giving him nothing but a short hum in response, his voice a fraction softer than what it was before. The silence that falls afterwards doesn’t feel as constricting, and Heizou lets the adeptus finish his work in peace.

“This will alleviate the symptoms until Dr. Baizhu arrives. Add this to his tea and let it steep for thirty seconds. If you need a second dose, ask Yanxiao for one stalk of violetgrass, grounded. No more than that,” he instructs, pressing the folded paper pouch into his palm.

“Thank you.”

Heizou’s gratitude is brushed off by a huff and folded arms as his new acquaintance steps away to don his mask. “Kaedehara’s spirit should not be squandered on his own human frailty.”

That’s as close to a compliment that Xiao could make, he thinks, given Heizou’s exposure to the man.

And that’s how their short-lived introduction ends – with Xiao fading into the wisps of darkness and Heizou holding the packet of crushed violetgrass in his palm.

Doctors shouldn’t be cuddling with their patients, but Heizou is not a doctor, so it’s fine.

The night passes and dawn is dyeing the room in grays. The violetgrass has helped Kazuha’s sensitive stomach, but his chills are still coming on strong and his fever persists. He knows that clambering into bed is one of the riskiest ways to catch this illness, but when Kazuha opens his bleary eyes and rasps, “Please hold me,”, Heizou strips off his own bits of armor and slips underneath the duvet without a second thought. He’s taken the bare bones precaution of using one of the spare blankets as a barrier, but he’s sure that it’s a flimsy form of protection at its best and utterly useless at its worst.

He has to admit that feeling Kazuha’s heartbeat against his ear, pressed up against his back, has given him a certain comfort that nothing else in this world can.

“Heizou,” Kazuha mumbles. Heizou waits for him to continue, maybe expecting a request to help him to the bathroom or for more tea, but he says nothing. He squeezes their interlocked fingers together and lifts his head.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Heizou’s head blanks, because he can’t recall anything he’s done to deserve it. “For what?”

“For being with me,” Kazuha replies as he curls their hands close to his chest, “For loving me.”

The confession takes him aback, if only for the pure sincerity behind the words. His heartbeat quickens, and he hides his face against Kazuha’s back again, hugging him closer.

“Who could ever not love you?”

“They’re not you.”

Heizou could argue that maybe that’s better, but Kazuha isn’t saying these things to hear a pity party. “Of course I love you,” he replies, though it sounds more sheepish than anything, but – of course he does. Loving Kazuha comes to him as naturally as the sun rises and sets, as easy as a junior crossword puzzle. And he doesn’t have a great way to show it. He tries, but he trips over his thoughts and his feelings and the crippling self doubt so many times. It’s a miracle that Kazuha has the patience for him.

(Kazuha would be a great doctor, he realizes through this. And if he was, Heizou would suddenly find self care to be number one on his personal priority list.)

So he adds, “Those should be my lines. Thank you for loving me.”

Kazuha rolls to face him. The rag over his head flops to the mattress, making his hair cling to his head. Those red eyes of his burn with unending determination through heavy eyelids. His shaky hands slide through Heizou’s loose hair.

“I love you.”

“You’re saying it like I won’t believe you,” Heizou teases, but he’s pretty sure that’s the point.

“I love you, Heizou,” Kazuha repeats seriously, “I love you.”

“You love me,” he repeats after him, and a lump catches in his throat. “I love you, and I think you’re delirious.”

And this seems to wound Kazuha slightly by the way his lips form a pout and his brows furrow. His fingers curl against Heizou’s scalp.

“I’m not. How can I make you understand…?”

“I know,” Heizou admits quietly, and he places a slow kiss against Kazuha’s temple. His heart burns from the tenderness of those treasured feelings, but he lets them in regardless. “I know you do.”

His fever is reaching a pitch, he thinks. The heat radiating from him is enough to be a cause for alarm, and he shoves off the top duvet in hopes of lowering his temperature.

Kazuha burrows against him more and shivers.

“You’ll get through this,” Heizou mumbles against his ear, gripping him tightly as a shiver ripples through his own body. “I believe in you.”

They drift off to sleep, unbeknownst to Heizou. He finds out because –

“Ah. My...apologies.”

Heizou jerks up from his sleep to find Xiao peering over them from distance, looking more conflicted than he’s seen anybody in Heizou’s life, himself included. He looks down at himself, disheveled and half dressed from moving about in their sleep – poised over Kazuha’s body to protect him from whatever threat his brain concocted before he realized it was Xiao.

He splutters. “I – this is – uh...”

But it only serves to make Xiao step backwards, like he’s placating them. “No need to explain. I understand. I’ve merely come to tell you that Dr. Baizhu is arriving soon.” and then he hears under his breath as the shorter man holds his head in his hand, “I should have realized sooner, Kazuha’s mate…”

Archon’s above, who calls their romantic partners their mate? “No, really –!”

Xiao is gone again having done his courtesy call, leaving Heizou as red as a tomato and staring at the door. What did he say again? Baizhu…?

Doctor Baizhu. The doctor. Yes, the doctor is coming and he’s half naked and in bed cuddling with Kazuha. Get dressed.

“Heizou…?” Kazuha stirs when Heizou wrestles himself out of the tangle of sheets and stumbles for his shirt.

“Doctor’s on his way,” he explains gently while he tugs the fabric over his head. He pauses to push the hair out of Kazuha’s eyes then returns to putting on his belt. As embarrassing as it was, he’s glad that Xiao gave them a proper warning. By the time he messily finger combs his hair and ties it back to look semi-presentable, he hears several footsteps coming up the stairs and towards their room.

Knock knock. “Dr. Baizhu has arrived. May he come in?” he hears Boss Verr’s voice through the door.

Heizou does them one better by opening the door for them, revealing both innkeepers, Huai’an and Verr Goldet behind a rather tall man with kind yet tired eyes, and a long white...oh that snake is alive and big, how is it not strangling this man right now?

“Come in,” he says with perfect restraint. The doctor has a snake. Maybe it’s a Liyuen custom he’s unaware of, or this is the wrong kind of doctor. When Dr. Baizhu passes by him, he glances back towards the others and finds them nonplussed about the situation. Okay. So. Whatever this is, it’s normal?

“Ah, Mister Kaedehara. We meet again,” the man greets lightheartedly, smiling at Kazuha, who’s just sat up to meet their guests. Kazuha gives him a tired smile in response as he bows his head.

“My deepest apologies for the burden I’ve placed upon you, Dr. Baizhu. Changsheng.”

And to Heizou’s surprise, the raspy voice that replies back doesn’t come from the doctor, but rather the snake. “Silly boy. Don’t tell me you’ve decided to get a second case of pneumonia on that dreadful ship.”

“Be nice, Changsheng.”

“Perhaps he should be kind to himself, first,” the snake retorts, though she curls to laze her head over Baizhu’s shoulder, peering over to him.

She has human eyes, he realizes with a chill.

“And who are you?”

“Shikanoin Heizou. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“This one seems to have sense,” the snake preens. Baizhu turns away from his patient to greet Heizou more formally, adjusting his glasses when they slip down his nose.

“Though I would wish under more pleasant circumstance, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Baizhu, as you might have guessed.”

“A pleasure,” Heizou replies. And how peculiar – the doctor has snake eyes. Is this the case of an unusual eye trait that seems to vary among vision holders, or another adeptus?

As he reasons to himself that youkai and adepti must be on a similar level, Baizhu begins the examination. He checks over Kazuha’s pulse and breathing to start, then they go over the list of symptoms as well as the temporary treatment of violetgrass.

“Violetgrass is indeed an ingredient I use in the prescription for this ailment, but may I ask how you came to the same conclusion?”

Heizou may value honesty over many other virtues, but he’s no Sango. Without knowing the full context of their relationship, he decides to play it smart. “A local from around these parts told me of some herbal remedies.”

Baizhu ponders over this information as he washes his hands in a basin, no doubt wondering if this local is anyone he’d recognize. “The knowledge of herbal remedies passed down through tradition does have it’s benefits, though I’d advise you in the future to wait until a professional arrives. Violetgrass alone is rather tame, but the moment in which you combine it with other factors, it becomes a potent medicine that can have adverse effects.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies in earnest.

“I’ll be making use of the kitchen again, if that’s all right with you, Huai’an, Verr,” Baizhu announces, his calm smile returning as he looks to Kazuha again, “It’s of my opinion that you’ve caught the current strain of influenza that’s been spreading recently. Your body will have to fight it on its own, but I can prescribe you some medicine to aid your symptoms. Get plenty of rest and fluids, and limit your travel until you fully recover.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Kazuha replies.

They aren’t finished. Not when Changsheng swivels around and looks Heizou straight in the eye, flickering her tongue out as she says, “And since you have been caring for him, you’ll be our next patient.”

Heizou doesn’t like the sound of that.

Heizou has the flu and a snake is his doctor. He’s not sure if this is even real, or if the sickness has caused him to hallucinate the whole endeavor.

Kazuha is still down with the flu himself, but he’s faring better. His fever has lessened over the following day and a half, but his energy is low and his congestion has now traveled upwards towards his nose and ears. He still loves red-nosed, stuffy Kazuha for all that he is, and now that they’re sick together, they can cuddle more. It makes things a hundred times easier, because all Heizou wants to do is not throw up, and to pass out on Kazuha’s chest while he dozes off an infinite number of times in the day.

“So much for not getting sick.”

“Dr. Baizhu said that influenza is highly contagious, so it’s likely you were already ill by the time we arrived,” Kazuha replies gently, placing a tray with some hot chicken broth and rice onto his lap. Once it’s secure, he takes his own tray from the nightstand and cozies up to Heizou’s side on the bed.

An easy meal that he can tolerate and Kazuha right next to him, this is turning out to be one of the best times of being miserable that Heizou’s ever had. He rests his head against Kazuha’s shoulder and exhales through the bout of nausea that creeps through his stomach. Kazuha’s fingers slip through his fringe, and a soft kiss is placed against his head.

“We’ll get through this together,” Kazuha murmurs with warmth. Heizou nods slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his fatigue.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Thank god we have a doctor.”