Word Count: 475
N/A: Day seven of a writing challenge.
Summary: Flaming eyes stare at the document before him, quietly basking in the victory that he hadn't really wanted to obtain.
Formal
For Xanxus, the death of the Vongola Decimo was both a win and a loss. It was a loss because the Vongola had just lost their Don, their Father. And since he was part of the Vongola, no matter how grudgingly, he to had lost another precious Family member. It was a win because he had won the bet that he and the Brat had made years prior. The bet had been a spontaneous thing, something to both entertain and keep him in line.
They had bet on who would survive the longest; because that's all you could do in the Mafia, survive. Xanxus had believed that the Brat would be the first one to fall, that the innocent ragamuffin would be destroyed by the dark world that he was entering. The Brat had thought differently, he had said that before he died he'd make Xanxus live. Truly live, he said he'd force Xanxus to actually breath, see, and feel. He would melt the ice that surrounded Xanxus' heart and make the organ beat.
For a brief moment in time Xanxus had thought that the Brat would win, however, that was before the Trash Byakuran made his move. Xanxus had considered donning a suit, for once, and making a official meeting with the Brat. He would be on time, he would be polite, and he would concede defeat. And with that one statement he would sign that damned document that the Brat had been bothering him about. The paper that made him, Xanxus, the Heir of Vongola. Because the Brat was to trusting, he was to kind, and in the end that was what got him killed.
The Brat's kindness got him shot and Xanxus' stubbornness left the Vongola without a leader. He refused to become the Don, to be the Undicesimo. The Brat had lost, so Xanxus refused to complete the act that would signal the Brat winning. Because becoming the Undicesimo, hell, even being the Heir of Vongola meant that the Brat won. That Xanxus had actually begun to live. But, because he hadn't he refused. He stayed the leader of the Varia and watched the Vongola limp along without a Don, a Father.
He almost signed that document after the Brat died, it was right after the funeral and Xanxus had spent a week being drenched in what was left of the Vongola. It had been a constant reminder of what the Brat had stood for and what he had accomplished; it was also a reminder of what he had almost accomplished. It was an unneeded and unwanted reminder of the document that was locked away with his good whiskey; the piece of paper that would instantly make him Undicesimo if he signed it. But he never did, because that would mean that the Brat had won, and he hadn't.