The quiet office rings with the sound of a firm knock on the door, and Hiruzen Sarutobi, Konoha's famed Third Hokage, awakens with a start. The faint glow of the approaching sunrise filters through the windows behind him, and the papers stacked in front of him cast long shadows over his desk. He grimaces as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

He'd fallen asleep in his office again.

Hiruzen is still massaging the kink in his neck, cursing his uncomfortable chair, when the knock on the door repeats itself.

"Come in," he grumbles, wincing as he forces himself to stand. The door opens with a click and a creak, and Shikaku Nara steps into the first rays of the dawning sun. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's deathly pale.

"Shikaku?" Hiruzen says, a note of concern creeping into his voice. The other man looks at him, speechless, and Hiruzen frowns. "Is something wrong?"

It's a pointless question. Something's the matter, or else Konoha's jounin commander wouldn't be barging into his office at the crack of dawn. Shikaku walks further into the room slowly, coming up to his desk. Hiruzen can tell the other man's just gotten out of bed; his eyes are lidded with sleep and wayward strands of messy black hair frame his face.

But then Shikaku speaks, and Hiruzen frowns.

"What?" he asks Shikaku, leaning forward. "I-what?"

Shikaku sets the folder he's been gripping tightly on Hiruzen's desk, swallowing nervously.

"Lord Danzo is dead."

And for a long moment, Hiruzen Sarutobi stares at the wall in numb shock.

The sun has risen by now, and the office is bathed in ethereal, golden light. It looks dreamlike. He feels like he's in a dream. What Shikaku's saying-it's not real. It can't be—

Shikaku's lips are moving, and he forces himself to listen.

"...jounin from Outpost 34, twenty miles from the border with Suna, investigated the disturbance. This," Shikaku says, gesturing at the folder on Hiruzen's desk, "is the report we just received from them."

Hiruzen slides the beige folder towards himself, fingertips sliding over the smooth, stiff cardstock. He lets out a deep breath before looking up to meet Shikaku's gaze.

"Give me the gist of it," he says, his voice calm and betraying nothing of the emotion surging under the surface. Shikaku clasps his hands behind him.

"The scout team found Lord Danzo's body shortly after arriving on the scene. It's being transported back now for a proper examination and autopsy," he says. "All four members of Team Ro were recovered. They're all stable, no critical injuries, but they're under some form of genjutsu that we haven't been able to lift yet."

"There's something else," Hiruzen says, examining the tense lines of Shikaku's face. The other man sighs, reaching for the folder between Hiruzen's hands. He opens it, rifling through the papers within until he pulls out a collection of photographs.

They're pictures of Danzo's corpse.

He breathes in sharply.

Hiruzen's seen plenty of bodies. He's a warrior. He's fought in multiple world wars. Gore and death are two things he's familiar with seeing. But—

But to see his old comrade sprawled face-down in the dirt still hurts.

He looks up, a question in his eyes, but Shikaku gestures towards the sheaf of photos.

"Keep looking through them," he says quietly, and Hiruzen obliges. The second shot is a close-up of Danzo's torso. Now Hiruzen can see where his old friend's tanned skin ends, and the pale flesh starts. His right arm is covered with wrinkly, white skin, studded with circular indentations.

Then he realizes they aren't indentations. They're eyes.

Danzo's arm is covered with closed eyes, and Hiruzen looks on in horrified fascination. His hands are a little unsteady as he shuffles to the next photograph. A pair of gloved hands hold one of the eyes open, exposing a pure, silvery iris. And Hiruzen's breath catches in his throat, the picture fluttering from his numb fingers down to the desk. He hasn't seen Izanagi used in decades, not since the Second Great Ninja War, but there's no mistaking those silver eyes.

Danzo's arm is covered with Sharingan. And there's only place he could have gotten them, only one source—

These are stolen eyes, plucked from the heads of Uchiha clan members.

"This-these are…" Hiruzen says, but his voice trails off as a wave of nausea sweeps over him. He closes his eyes.

Where had they gone so far astray? When had Danzo fallen so far?

Why hadn't he pulled his friend back from the edge?

And it's time to face reality. It's time to acknowledge the truth. He's a failure. It's an acrid taste in his mouth, a bitter pang in his chest, and Hiruzen is ashamed. He can still hear the second Hokage's voice, telling him to take good care of the Leaf, and he can't—

This wasn't how things were meant to go. He never wanted this. All he ever wanted was to protect the people and the village he loved. Now the village teeters on the verge of civil war, and it's his fault. He's a fool.

"Lord Hokage?" Shikaku says, and Hiruzen blinks with surprise. He'd forgotten he wasn't alone.

"Go to Fugaku Uchiha. Tell him to meet me here," he says to Shikaku, watching as the other man's eyes widen slightly.

"What are you going to do?" Shikaku asks, already walking towards the door. Hiruzen leans back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he says softly.

Jiraiya hasn't been here in years. The last time he'd set foot in Hokage Tower had been a lifetime ago, when its occupant had been a radiant man with cerulean eyes and golden hair. He sighs. He's faced a lot of loss over the years. He's had a lot of bad days. But the day he heard of Minato Namikaze's death has to be one of the worst memories he has.

The door opens to reveal a familiar office, and for the first time in years, Jiraiya looks upon the weathered face of his old teacher.

"Jiraiya?" the Hokage says, looking up from his desk. He's thinner than Jiraiya remembers, frailer, but now there's a faint smile stretching over his face. "When did you get here?"

"A couple days ago, Lord Hokage," Jiraiya replies, shifting uncomfortably as he looks down at the floor. He hears a faint chuckle, and glances up to see the Hokage's raised eyebrow.

"That's a bit formal, isn't it?" he asks Jiraiya, confused. "I can't remember the last time you called me that."

"I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. Not after how I left," he says, watching his old teacher carefully. The Hokage looks away from him, his gaze landing on a picture of a smiling blond man on the far wall.

"I think we all dealt with his death in different ways, Jiraiya. I won't hold that against you," he says after a while.

Jiraiya lets out a breath, nodding slowly. As he steps further into the office, his eyes linger on the papers and pictures scattered over the surface of the Hokage's desk.

"I heard about Lord Danzo," he says, and the Hokage lets out a weary sigh.

"I'm not going to ask how you know about that," he says, running a hand over his face. "But yes. It's a mess."

"I'm sorry, Sarutobi-sensei," Jiraiya says gently. "I didn't care much for him, but he was your friend."

"Look at this," the Hokage says, holding out a sheaf of photographs. Jiraiya scans them quickly, his jaw going slack.

"Are these-"

"Yes," the Hokage says. "Sharingan."

"How did he get so many? How many Uchiha did he have to kill for-"

"There's no way to know."

"They're going to want blood for this," Jiraiya says, setting down the pictures. "Things are going to spiral out of control once this gets out."

"And if they do," the Hokage says, "the only person to blame is myself. I was blind, and I was a fool."

"You trusted someone, and they deceived you," Jiraiya says with a frown. "That doesn't make you a fool. It makes you human."

"I doubt Fugaku will see it that way, Jiraiya," his old teacher says, giving him a tired smile. "But I do appreciate you saying so."

Four hours later, Fugaku Uchiha walks into Hiruzen's office. He stands in the middle of the room, ramrod-straight, tension evident in the hard lines of his face.

There was a time when Fugaku wouldn't hold himself this way. There was a time when the laugh lines on his face outnumbered the frown lines on his brow. But that was a long time ago.

"Lord Hokage," he says stiffly. "You called for me."

There's six feet between Hiruzen and the Uchiha clan head, but it might as well be a thousand miles. There's hostility and suspicion in the air, a tangible, stifling weight. Hiruzen meets Fugaku's arctic glare with a gentle smile, motioning for the other man to sit.

Fugaku doesn't move, and he suppresses a sigh.

"I'm sure you've heard the news about Councilman Danzo by now," Hiruzen says. Fugaku nods once.

"Shisui and Itachi Uchiha are alive and well. They're being brought back to the village as we speak," Hiruzen continues. "But there is something in the report from the scout team that we need to discuss."

Fugaku steps closer, taking the folder Hiruzen offers him. It's the second time Hiruzen is watching someone flip through the report, the second time he's seeing their reaction firsthand. But where Jiraiya's reaction had been one of horrified surprise, Fugaku's face tightens with rage. His shoulders tense up, and his cool hostility is replaced with tempestuous anger. The folder's tossed back onto the desk as he brandishes a photograph.

"This is-what is the meaning of this?" he snarls. Hiruzen braves the waves of fury radiating off the other man, meeting his volcanic glower with a sympathetic countenance.

"Sit down, Fugaku," he says.

"I-what's going-"

"Sit down."

There may be an ocean of resentment between the two men, there may be years of frustration and little love lost between the two of them, but—

But Hiruzen is still the Hokage. He's still the most respected person in the whole village. And clearly, that still means something to the Uchiha clan head, because Fugaku drops into the chair on the other side of the desk without another word.

Hiruzen studies the younger man for what seems like an eternity. Fugaku's silky black hair is a little disheveled, his brow is a little furrowed, and his eyes are locked on Hiruzen's with blazing intensity.

He remembers a time when they had been comrades. He remembers Fugaku as he once was, a fiercely loyal young man with a trademark, lopsided smirk. He remembers hard-fought victories and crushing defeats, fighting side-by-side with a man he'd considered a friend. That camaraderie is dead now, living only in his memories, and Fugaku's friendly smile and witty banter has been lost to the dusty annals of time.

"You've got to keep up, Lord Hokage!"

And Hiruzen asks himself the same question again—

Where had everything gone wrong?

He's lived a long, long life. There are joyful memories-marrying the love of his life, cradling his newborn son, watching armies of Leaf ninja returning home at the end of the Third War. There are bitter recollections, too-when Orochimaru had forsaken the village, and that dark day he'd lost his wife, and the village had lost its Hokage. There's love and loss, ecstasy and grief, gratitude and regret.

There's a lot to regret.

Because he's failed as a father, his son refusing to even see him anymore. He's failed as a teacher, with Orochimaru growing wicked and twisted, and Tsunade fleeing the village. He'd thought that maybe he had succeeded as a leader, guiding the village through two world wars, but—

But the man sitting before him is proof enough that he's failed there too. So Hiruzen sighs, leaning back in his chair, and breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry, Fugaku."

It hangs in the air for a second, a declaration that shocks the Uchiha clan head into silence. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Hiruzen shakes his head sadly.

"I wasn't made to do this," he says to Fugaku. "I'm not a diplomat or a politician. I've never been those things. All I've ever been is a soldier, and everything I've ever done I did because I thought it would protect the village."

Fugaku's scowl mellows slightly, and he looks away as Hiruzen keeps speaking.

"I left the espionage and side dealings to Danzo. He was always so much better with those things," he says, his voice soft and laden with sorrow. "Now I see I neglected my duties. He took advantage of my trust and abused his power. And I'm sorry, Fugaku, I really am. I failed you, your clan, and the entire village."

"But Danzo isn't the only one who's taken advantage of my mistakes. He's not the only one who's keeping dangerous secrets. So let's put it all on the table. There are no more secrets between us, not now," Hiruzen says, staring into Fugaku's wary expression. "I know about the coup, Fugaku."

And there it is. These are words he can't take back, hanging in the air like smoke. They're words that wipe the emotion from Fugaku's face, leaving an inscrutable mask behind. The younger man slouches in his chair, something flickering in his eyes.

"What do you plan to do?" Fugaku asks, his voice quiet and barely audible.

"I've known you since you were a boy, you know. I remember you playing in the Academy playground with my son like it was yesterday," Hiruzen says. "And for the life of me, I can't-why didn't you just come to me? What made you think you couldn't just come to me?"

Fugaku's gaze drops now, a darkness falling over his face as he grits his teeth. When he speaks, his words tremble with boiling frustration and incandescent anger.

"And what have you done?" he spits venomously. "You've seen what's happening-how they corral us into our district, how they scorn and exclude us. I don't need to remind you of that. We were a founding clan of Konoha, and now-now we beg for a seat at the table-"

"We can change that," Hiruzen cuts in. "Things can change, but-"

"Nothing changes! Nothing changes in this fucking village!" Fugaku snaps. "My brother, my sister, my father, they all died in the war. And what? What did they die for, Lord Hokage? For the Uchiha to be exiled-"

"You still haven't told me why you didn't just come to me," Hiruzen says, unintimidated by the other man's outburst. "There's nothing that you've mentioned that we can't change, together."

"It's insulting. It's humiliating. It wouldn't have happened in the first place if the Uchiha were in charge," Fugaku says, and Hiruzen sighs.

"So this is about pride, then?" he asks. Fugaku's eyes flit up to look at him, but the Uchiha doesn't answer. Hiruzen stands, turning and leaning on the windowsill behind him as he looks out over the village.

"What use is pride to dead men?" Hiruzen says.

These words join the rest, floating around in the air until the office is stifling, suffocating with the invisible tension stewing between the two men. And then the dam breaks, the floodwaters surge free, and there's the screech of Fugaku's chair sliding backwards and the clatter of it crashing to the ground.

Fugaku's eyes glow with scarlet light, the black pinwheels of his Mangekyou Sharingan spinning. There's a thrumming noise as power crackles out from him, and four silent ANBU appear out of thin air to surround him, swords drawn. It happens in an instant; Fugaku looks to his left, and then to his right, and all four ANBU crumple, unconscious. Hiruzen turns and watches calmly as Fugaku turns his crimson gaze upon him, his face twisting into a contemptuous sneer.

"You think this is about pride?" he grinds out, each word dripping with outrage. "We're pariahs, prisoners in our own village. We're animals, hunted for our eyes. And if we resist, if we try to fight back-you'll kill all of us?"

"You do know how this ends, don't you?" Hiruzen says softly, hands still on the windowsill. "Either we find some common ground, or I fulfill my oath to protect the village."

Fugaku grabs the folder off the table and hurls it into the air, sending forms and photos flying. His eyes glow even brighter, and the room grows unbearably hot, as if it's about to burst into flames.

"And what about your oath to protect us?" he snarls. "You know how Danzo got these Sharingan, don't you? Where were you when we needed you? What did you do?"

Hiruzen sighs, stepping away from the window to meet Fugaku's luminous eyes. The younger man's knuckles are pale, squeezing the edge of Hiruzen's desk, and his dark hair falls over his face haphazardly.

"That's why we're speaking now," Hiruzen says. "We can dissolve the restrictions. The Uchiha district can be abolished, the clan can be integrated back into the village. We can leave all of this behind us."

"Leave it all behind us?" Fugaku says, hysterical incredulity seeping into his voice. He grabs the picture of one of Danzo's stolen Sharingan from the desk, shoving it in Hiruzen's face. "You want us to forget about this?"

"I can't change the past, Fugaku," Hiruzen says, finally letting a little frustration bleed through his composed facade. "I can't-all we can do is make sure this doesn't happen again. I promise you, I won't let it happen again."

Fugaku's expression grows guarded. But his eyes are as expressive as ever, black pinwheels spinning wildly as he glares at him. A dozen different emotions swirl around in those eyes, reminding Hiruzen of the glowers he used to receive from a teenaged Fugaku.

And Hiruzen feels a sense of finality, because even if he's failed at a thousand things as Hokage, he refuses to fail in this. He's not going to lose Fugaku to this.

"I won't let anything bad happen again," he repeats, and Fugaku snorts.

"What happens when you change your mind?" the clan head asks him, rousing him from his reverie. "What happens if your successor doesn't share your sentiments?"

"That's a good point," Hiruzen concedes. "But you won't have to worry about me changing my mind. I won't be Hokage for very much longer. I've chosen a successor today."

Fugaku manages to look both furious and unimpressed at the same time, his shoulders still tense and his fists still clenched as he whirls away, pacing in the middle of the office like a caged beast.

"That doesn't answer anything-"

"I'm saying," Hiruzen cuts in sharply, "that you're right. The Uchiha deserve a greater role in running the village. That's the only way to truly bridge this divide."

Fugaku laughs scornfully, facing away from Hiruzen. The harsh sound splits the still air of the office.

"So you'll turn over the control of the village?" he asks.

"To be Hokage requires putting the village over everything else, even yourself and the people you love," Hiruzen says deliberately. "It means being willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good. There's a young man who's shown himself capable of doing that."

Fugaku stops pacing, turning to face Hiruzen slowly. He's frowning, shaking his head, but Hiruzen goes on.

"This young man warned the Council of a plot against the village, even though it meant betraying his family and clan. He spied for us, turning against the people he loved," Hiruzen says, watching Fugaku carefully. "He bore tremendous personal hardship to uphold his oath to the village."

Fugaku's muscles bunch and tense as he freezes, staring down Hiruzen. He shakes his head again, as if he doesn't want to hear what Hiruzen's saying to him. But he stands there and listens, and Hiruzen stands there and speaks.

"Itachi Uchiha proved his commitment to the village over everything else. He will succeed me as Hokage."

The color drains from Fugaku's face, and red turns to brown as his Sharingan fades away. He's stepping back, recoiling as if Hiruzen's struck him. Wide-eyed and speechless, Fugaku viciously shakes his head a third time. After a long moment, he finally stammers something out, his voice rough and low.

"No. No, that's-not Itachi. Itachi wouldn't, he wouldn't do that," he says. Hiruzen raises an eyebrow at him.

"There are no secrets between us anymore, Fugaku. Everything I tell you is the truth," he says, reaching out to steady the younger man with one hand. But Fugaku flinches, staggering back, almost tripping over the bodies of the incapicated ANBU behind him.

"Itachi," Fugaku says, quietly, taking in a deep breath. Something changes, his crackling rage giving way to—

Giving way to anguish.

Hiruzen watches Fugaku bury his face in his hands, sitting atop the overturned chair he'd tossed to the ground just minutes earlier. His shoulders slump, and the heat in the room falls away as Fugaku's anger fizzles out.

"My own son," he says hoarsely, looking up. "My heir and my son. You used him against me?"

"He came to us, Fugaku. I didn't turn your son against you," Hiruzen replies. He meant it to be a reassurance, a way to tell Fugaku that he's never tried to undermine him, but—

But Fugaku looks as though he's been slapped. His eyes grow unfocused, staring at the floor, and when he speaks again, he sounds hollow. Empty.

"Itachi was my-Itachi was everything. He was always meant to be the best of us," he says, and Hiruzen winces internally at how broken he sounds.

"He acted out of love. You should be proud of him," he says, looking down at the younger man. But Fuguku's shaking his head again.

"How can I ever look him in the face again?" he says, his voice clouded and thick. The words drop from his mouth like boulders, heavy and dead. "You let Danzo hunt us for sport, you drove us into exile, you let the village hate us. Did you have to take my son from me too?"

"I don't want to take anything from you," Hiruzen says. "I want us to work together-"

"You think he's worthy of being Hokage because he betrayed us," Fugaku mumbles. "That's what you value."

"I've told you what I want to do," Hiruzen replies. "Will you work with me?"

The dark-haired man looks dazed, dazed and defeated, as he gets to his feet. He won't meet Hiruzen's gaze, he's breathing rapidly, and there's despair written into every line of his body. His eyes flick up to Hiruzen's face momentarily.

"You've taken everything already," he says softly. "What choice do I have left?"