Takeshi couldn't remember whose idea it was.

The year prior he had been shot in the left shoulder; it took months to heal and he still had limited maneuverability in the arm. He didn't regret it, however. It was either his shoulder or Tsuna's head.

He would do it again in a heartbeat.

It was the worst injury he had sustained for the boss yet and he knew Tsuna still found himself guilty. He recognized the guilt in the Decimo's eyes whenever he saw the scarring.

So there he lay on his bed with Hibari hovering over him with a needle.

Hayato was standing nervously at his side shooting Hibari weary looks as he worked. If he had to be honest, even after years of working with the man, he wasn't entirely comfortable with having him holding a needle that close to his face – or really, that close to his anything.

He would have preferred to be the one doing the work – as he did for the other guardians – but when he tried his hands shook to badly for him to be successful. He still blamed himself for the injury – wished he had been there to take the hit instead.

So they called in Hibari.

The man had steady hands – curtesy of years of calligraphy – and had, thankfully, agreed to help.

He would never admit to it, but like everyone else, he would do anything for the boss.

Like with everything he did, Hibari was efficient and was done within half the time it would have normally took.

It wasn't the first one he had gotten done – he had several swallows across his collar bone and a black oriental dragon covering the entirety of his back– Hayato's proud work.

Hibari said nothing when he was done, he just sat down the needle and walked out of the room without a word.

"Ne, Hayato, how does it look?"

"…it's good, for not being mine…"

"Really?"

"Go look in a mirror if you don't believe me," he scoffed.

Takeshi sat up and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I trust your judgement."

The next day when Tsuna walked in on him training, instead of a ghastly scar he saw a proudly brandished Vongola crest.