He didn't ever think he'd get this far, to live until this point. To actually have a deathbed. As it was in his youth, he'd seen a lot of terrible shit, done a lot of crap, and had to keep hush hush about all of it to the rest of the world. He expected to die on a battlefield. Hell, he'd thought he should've died at least twice pretty solidly in the past, was truly ready to. And well, his heart's stopped beating a few times after watching a number of those old fights.

But now he's lying in his deathbed, an old man. He'd said goodbye to his loved ones already – Urameshi and Kurama even came in with their families. Hell, the punk kid he grew up with still looked at least thirty years younger than him. Damn demon genetics.

Speaking of demon, Kurama mentioned in confidence that he might be coming along soon. Foxboy wasn't thinking of trying to stick around in another body again this time. Nobody mentioned Botan. He knew he'd be seeing her and Koenma soon. Even if he wasn't still employed by Spirit World, he'd see them, give him the special treatment. And anyways, he didn't know if he could go through watching someone crying again at his expense right now like the oar-rider would. Keiko and the kids shed enough for his part by now. Besides, he was going out a lot later than he expected to have.

He was drifting again, and feeling it come on. No one lasted a month as a psychic without being able to sense oncoming death. Urameshi and Kurama each squeezed his hand in turn, before pulling away to give him his last moments in private. They understood. Of everyone here, they would.

His head propped against the pillow, he tried to relax, and waited for the ferrygirl they so loved to fetch him. A shadow in the room told him someone arrived, but not through the door. And a caress of energy told him it wasn't Botan.

"Heh, hey… Shrimp." He titled his head just so to take in the little demon. New scars since the last time he saw him ages ago, new cloak, and two damn katanas now. There were a few wrinkles around darkened eyes as what could only be demonic age spots to his kind. But his third eye was covered in a bandana and his hair was still ridiculous and his eyes were still red and demonic and so very Hiei right now.

"Idiot." He didn't take offence. It was like an annoying pet name from someone you didn't quite hate but didn't quite love. So okay, maybe he did take a bit of offence since he was dying and all. But at least he got to start the banter this one last time.

"Couldn't see me go… without confessing how much you… care about me, huh?"

A smirk and a glare were his answers as the little demon settled himself in his window sill, as graceful as ever. After a moment, he finally spoke up. "You're not quite dead yet, Kuwabara."

"Just about."

"Hn."

"Hey, Hiei…" He waited until red met brown. He needed to convey this if said demon was really going to be here to convey it to. Years of being stuck working together and not liking one another, but still watching each other's backs were heavy on his heart, flooding from the time he hadn't seen him. They weren't really friends - this wasn't a deluded kind of deathbed. But they were something. Comrades? Yeah, something like that. "Thank you."

The demon didn't speak, just held his gaze before nodding once, understanding drawn on his face. Kazuma settled himself again, readying. It was like the climax to a fight. It all just rolls all together at some point and you can't help it anymore. When he closed his eyes for the last time, they opened to blue and pink, not black and red.