Byakuran gritted his teeth and his lips curled back into a snarl as he stared at the ceiling.

There was something he'd forgotten; missed. There was something wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong

The damn Vongola had smiled. Why did he smile? Normal people didn't smile on their deathbeds…then again; normal people didn't manage to successfully lead an entire Mafia Family at the age of fifteen…but it wasn't successful anymore. Now he was dead and the Family in shambles…but there was something off.

Byakuran rolled onto his side and threw the stifling white sheets off of him. He narrowed his eyes in frustration. That nagging feeling in his head…it wriggled and squirmed his way into his thoughts and now he couldn't sleep. Damn it, that brat was still irritating him from beyond the grave an wouldn't –

Was he dead?

Of course he was. Byakuran had shot the bullets himself. He'd seen them pierce the Vongola squarely in the heart and forehead. It had been a professional hit – from a professional assassin.

He smiled

Why did he smile?

Byakuran had missed something. He never missed anything. His plans were perfect; infallible; flawless; unfailing; what had he forgotten? Overlooked?

Was he dead?

Byakuran tightened his hand into a fist and felt his fingernails threatening to break the skin on the palm of his hand. He sat abruptly and swung his legs over the side of his large bed. The moonlight was glinting off of the metal plating that lined his White Spell uniform draped over the chair in the far corner of his room. Along the bottom of the jacket, Byakuran's eyes could only just make out the messy blood splatters that stained the pure white. That particular piece of clothing would be unsalvageable, but that did not upset Byakuran in the least. Instead, as he strode over to the uniform and ran the damp material between his fingers, he felt a slight rush of reassurance.

The blood was real. It was real and the Vongola had died. He had died and that was all th –

He smiled

With a frustrated roar, Byakuran clenched his fist in the blood soaked coat and swung his hand, releasing it in time to see the weighty jacket splatter against the far wall and then fall innocently to the ground.

Seething, Byakuran rammed a lethal fist into the wall behind him. He could see that bloody mess of a human on the ground and hear the shouts of the brats guardians outside the room, but that damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn smile was still there.

It knew something. It knew, it knew, it knew –

What?

What did it know?

The empty, moonlit room around him offered no answers nor did the annoying ringing in his ears.

Byakuran stood motionless for another minute before relenting to the enthralling urge and snatching up his handgun from the side table, shrugging on one of the many uniformed coats he owned.

He'd find out. This would tell him.

Then he'd know too.

He threw open the door and marched across the small office that connected directly to his suite. He dug a fingernail into the long meeting table and dragged it down the soft wood as he walked. He revelled in the inhumane shrieks emitted from the piece of furniture and continued on until he stood directly in front of the first subordinate he saw. The man opened his mouth to greet him and Byakuran could already see the partially hidden fear bubbling up into the faceless man's eyes.

He did not bother responding to the tentative 'can I assist you in any way, sir?'

Instead, he drew the concealed gun from his pocket and aimed the barrel directly between the lug's eyes. Byakuran took sick pleasure in the way the man's pupils dilated in sudden terror and the way his Adams apple bobbed continuously in an attempt to swallow his sudden gasp of anxiety.

He didn't smile when Byakuran pulled the trigger and watched him fall motionless to the ground.

He hadn't known anything that would tear at Byakuran's concentration and infect his boss with sleepless nights.

Byakuran growled softly and kicked the man out of his way.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe the Vongola hadn't had an ace up his sleeve.

Maybe he had simply been a fool? Believing in his pitifully small amount of strength up until the end?

Violent; inevitable end.

Maybe he'd been expecting to be saved?

That must've been it. Byakuran shouldn't panic. The Vongola had simply been relying on false hopes. If he'd known what had really been about to happen, then he wouldn't have smiled so contentedly. He wouldn't –

He smiled

There was something wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong

Something very wrong;

Unequivocally; irreversibly; undeniably; indisputably wrong

A/N In retrospect, this chapter should not have been as fun to write as it was.