"… This is your plan?"

He's staring at a sheet of paper with mathematical equations and paragraphs of explanations that would make no sense to people who were left out of the loop of the three men crowded around the drawing room table. The lights are dimmed, the curtains drawn, a clear-cut warning for everyone to stay out (he can almost hear the Storm Guardian fuming about the meeting that he wasn't included in).

There's an exasperated expression on Sawada's face, but he doesn't look surprised. Instead, he responds with, "I know it's kinda weird, isn't it?" he says. "Irie-san here came up with most of it. I was never very good with physics."

The man with orange hair clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his face. If he thinks that Hibari trusts him, he is sorely mistaken.

But even the Cloud Guardian knows that they are out of options.

When Vongola Decimo asks him to switch the bullets, he says nothing. Nobody asks any questions when he slips away (modified bullet in his pocket) without a trace because they are accustomed to the Cloud Guardian's coming and going as he pleased. They don't question his decision to take on a mission alone either; he works best when no one else is around.

And traveling alone minimizes his chances of getting caught. He's completely composed while infiltrating the Millefiore's base, particularly because it's his second time here.

Briefly, he wonders if that is why Sawada has tasked him with this particular mission, but they're unimportant details that he doesn't need clouding his mind. So he presses further until he finds the Millefiore's drawing room that he had discovered the last time, long mahogany table in the center, outfitted with twenty-two chairs, each with their own terminal for virtual meetings. Ceremonial swords line the walls.

It's all quite flamboyant compared to the Vongola base, but Sawada was never one for extravagance. The scarlet couch that sat in the meeting room had been a gift from the Cavallone Famiglia (how like the Bucking Horse to give such a present).

There is already a pistol at the head of the table, loaded and cocked. Hibari arches a brow, impressed by how prepared the Millefiore Famiglia is for tomorrow's parley.

But Sawada Tsunayoshi is five steps ahead of Byakuran.

He slides a pair of dark gloves over his hands. Wiping his prints off the doorknobs had been easy, but getting rid of them thoroughly was a little harder with the bullets. He turns the gun over in his hands as if to weigh it carefully. .45 caliber, semi-auto.

Twenty rounds, not that they'll be needing all those bullets.

He produces a cartridge from a pocket on the inside of his jacket, replacing the gun's rounds with the new one. Modified bullets, straight from Giannini, meant to stop a pulse without truly ending a life (he doesn't question how it works; the mechanic's inventions, albeit useful, never made any sense). Only after he clicks the gun shut does he realize that everything has gone too smoothly. But he thinks to himself, perhaps he should not be so surprised. After all, for a Mafia Famiglia, signing a treaty is the equivalent to surrendering.

A smirk works its way across his face; they are sorely mistaken if they think that they have won.

"You speak as if there are no other options."

"That's because there are none, Hibari."

He's never been able to get a proper reading on Sawada. He has an herbivore's heart and a carnivore's resolution. Sometimes, he thinks that the only reason he has stayed to watch the Vongola's Boss is because he has never met an omnivore before.

"Hibari — "

"Don't repeat yourself unnecessarily."

Sawada's smile grows ever so slightly wider, a warmth that not even Hibari is entirely immune towards. He smiles because he knows that he already has Hibari's answer.

"I can rest easy knowing that you'll be watching everyone."

"If you keep speaking like a dead man, Sawada, I'll have to kill you with my own hands."

The wind pounds against the window's glass as Sky enters, tailed by Storm, Rain, Sun, and Cloud.

Yamamoto glances uncomfortably at the blade at his side, as if he could slice the tension in the air with it. The natural-born hitman's eyes are trained upon the Storm Guardian, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Hibari watches silently as Gokudera chews on his lip, physically restraining himself from trying to convince Tsuna from signing the treaty.

Ryohei is uncharacteristically quiet.

"Bastard," Gokudera hisses as Byakuran lifts a gun off the table and spins it with an index finger. His humming is the only response he has for the Storm Guardian before catching the weapon.

"Relax, Hayato-kun. It's only for formalities," the man chimes in with a smile. "To make you remember who is in charge here, of course."

Hibari never sees Vongola Decimo lower his fountain pen, only hears the sudden gunshot ringing through the room, watches Gokudera scream with a paling face, watches Yamamoto stare in horror and reach for his sword, watches Ryohei lunge at a Millefiore member like an angry animal.

Blood pools from Tsuna's forehead.

Hibari Kyoya watches the scene unfold silently.