Author's Note: Surprise! I'm not dead, but it's been... a really long time. Sorry about that. And if you notice any glaring continuity errors, please please let me know.

So yeah, Let's see if we can finish this. I'm going to try to update once a week or so, though that'll depend on the schedule of my beta reader and how bad work gets.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me, read, reviewed, favorited... You guys really are amazing.

Content Warning: Shisui isn't in a good place, at all. This chapter deals with symptoms that are similar to a panic attack/emotional shock and depressive episodes. Minor discussion of off-screen character death, though nothing too graphic.

There are dots floating in his left eye, Shisui notices. Small black lines that dance away whenever he focuses on them. They stand out best in the light of the window, just above the head of one of the interchangeable nin from Intel. But he can still see them when he looks away as well; dark shadows at the edge of his vision. He wonders if he's hallucinating them or if they're actually there. If they're a symptom of the early onset blindness that legend says befall all those who claim the mangekyo sharingan. He isn't sure which is worse. A Hokage who's hallucinating things is obviously a problem, but he isn't even sure if he could be a ninja without sight. He isn't sure he could be anything without sight.

With a sigh, he pushes those thoughts away. His nights are already haunted by potentialities, he refuses to let his days be as well. With far more effort than it used to take, he forces himself back to the present. Back to the minutiae of keeping a military village running, despite the best efforts of its inhabitants. Each of them trying to kill themselves or their neighbors over their thousands of petty problems the moment his back starts to turn. But no, that isn't fair. Many of them are just everyday people, trying to live their lives. They didn't ask him to steal the Hokage's hat. No one asked him to. He chose this role. And he has no one to blame for his problems but himself, and perhaps his self-centered, narcissistic family.

The nin from Intel pauses in her debrief for a second and Shisui tries to remember what she was talking about. He receives written summaries for every meeting, but for the life of him, he can't seem to remember the point of this one in particular. He's having trouble remembering much of anything these days. Between handling mission assignments, mission debriefs, the absolute disaster that is his family and the various squabbles of the rest of the clans, he can't remember the last time he got more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep. He knows it's been weeks at least.

Before the pause can get too long, the Intel nin licks her lips and continues "-which, we believe, will be resolved quickly. That does bring us to the final point though." She looks directly at Shisui for a second, before averting her eyes slightly to the right of his shoulder. Apparently even ANBU are unwilling to look too long into the eyes of an Uchiha. "The Kazekage has invited us to send a delegation to their chunin promotion examination," she says before looking down at her notes, "citing a desire for increased cooperation between our villages in these perilous times." The nin looks back up, "This is the second time he has expressed this desire, and our latest intelligence indicates that he is most likely acting in good faith. This is also the first time he has indicated this wish in writing." She pauses again, and Shisui isn't sure how he is meant to respond.

"We have included his missive and recommendations from the Office of Foreign Affairs. The OFA also indicated that we should respond within the next tenday." The Intel nin finishes and Shisui nods. This is the first real overture any of the villages have made toward acknowledging Konaha since he took charge. However despite his firmer control on village security and the prestige ANBU has earned taking external missions, there is still a very good chance that the Kazekage motivations run deeper here.

"I will look over the briefing packet tonight and inform your office if I have any questions," Shisui says, finally. "You can tell the OFA and the Kazekage to expect an answer by the end of the week." The Intel officer nods and bows before quickly leaving to make room for Shisui's next appointment of the day.

As soon as she's gone, Shisui closes his eyes and presses his palms to his eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he can still feel the black lines at the edges of his vision. He needs more sleep. He needs more coffee.

When one of the administrative nin comes in to announce his next appointment, Shisui gets him to bring more coffee as well. He doubts he can last through another briefing without another influx of caffeine.

The invitation from the Kazekage turns out to be just the start of his international headache. Utilizing ANBU in the general mission pool has increased the village's capacity for high level missions, and within a month the number of S-rank mission requests they receive from foreign interests doubles. Some of them are other villages trying to get someone else to handle dangerous criminals of little strategic worth — often missing nin without any particular classified jutsu, but a tendency toward mass murder. Much more though, are foreign governments requesting assassinations or intelligence work. Their reasons vary — some are drawn in by the near perfect success rate of Konoha nin under Shisui, others don't trust their own hidden villages, and still more have no hidden village of their own. However, all of them seem to believe that they are somehow doing Shisui a favor, and that he should offer them a lower fee or additional services because of this.

While the additional money ANBU brings in is a godsend, it takes less than two months before he starts running out of ninja to send on missions. What little sleep he was stealing before is a sweet distant memory compared to now.

Shisui spends his nights sitting with Itachi, sorting through mission requests, grouping them by relative difficulty, needed team size, and relative reward. While he is forced to keep some because of the political ramifications of turning them down, many he tosses out, the pay simply not worth the risk. He has been Hokage for ten months and in that time, he hasn't lost a single man, woman or child. Not out on a mission at least.

Mornings have to start earlier now too. Usually well before dawn. He does his best to wake up with a combination of caffeine and calisthenics. Sometimes Itachi joins him, but most days he is still asleep when Shisui leaves. And for all that Shisui relies on Itachi's strength, he won't begrudge a child a few hours of sleep.

By first light, both of them are in the mission assignment office. Shisui at the desk, and Itachi, in full ANBU uniform, a step behind him. Shisui prides himself in his ability to make sure each team is capable of their assigned missions. Between his innate knack for reading people and an encyclopedic knowledge of personnel files, he knows his people. He knows what they can do, and more importantly, he knows what they can't.

Eventually though, they all start to blur together. There are too many missions. Too many teams. And he hasn't slept for more than an hour at a time in so very long.

ANBU taking normal missions easily doubled the number of active level jounin and jounin equivalents. Promising chunin have been taking A-rank missions, and some have even handled some of the more straightforward S-ranks. And while that rather conclusively proves that those teams are more than qualified to be jounin, the fact remains, there are a lot of ninja to keep track of. Itachi helps, but he doesn't understand people the same way that Shisui does.

Some mornings Shisui finds it easier to pay attention to those pesky dark spots in his vision than to the men and women in front of him. On those days, Itachi will stand closer, his presence grounding Shisui in a way that not even an extra hour or two of sleep could.

Some nights, Shisui can't even remember what he did the day before, and even though he knows Itachi would help him with that as well, he can't bring himself to tell him. There isn't a day that goes by that Shisui doesn't wonder how he is still holding everything together. How is he still balancing on this knife edge? How has no one else noticed how very fragile their entire world is?

But even with all his doubts and fears and the cold knowledge of his own fallibility a constant weight on his thoughts, it doesn't make his first misstep any less shocking.

Shisui is in his office, taking a fifteen-minute lunch break. Itachi is sitting on his desk, unmasked, and picking at Shisui's lunch as well, his movements fast and bird-like as he steals what he wants. It's peaceful — or as close to peaceful as Shisui's life gets these days — until a runner comes in, out of breath and holding a scroll. The child doesn't bother knocking and is obviously surprised to see Shisui and Itachi eating. He pauses for a second before bowing and stammering, "H-hokage-samma? I… uh, have a message for you!" He bows, places the sealed message on the desk next to Itachi – who had somehow managed to get his mask back on – and then bows and almost trips over his feet in his haste to get out.

Shisui picks up the scroll and looks at it for a moment before Itachi places his own hand over Shisui's and looks Shisui in the eye. "Lunch first," his tone is serious, but Shisui can hear the slight lilt in his voice that indicates as close to a smile as Itachi tends to get, "bad news can wait until after you've eaten."

Shisui hides a smile of his own, nodding instead. "If you insist," he says. "Though you'll have to take your mask off if we're going to finish lunch." Itachi might not always be the easiest to read, but it's hard to misinterpret his sigh as he leans back on his hands and looks up at the ceiling, his whole body telegraphing irritation at Shisui's suggestion. This time Shisui can't hide his smile. Itachi only ever relaxes enough to joke even if only with his body language around Shisui.

It doesn't take long to finish.

Shisui is proud that his hands don't shake as he picks the scroll back up. A drop of blood and a quick hand sign unseal it.

Mission Report

Mission Designation S-9167A

Mission Result: Failure. All units lost, presumed dead

Mission Details: Team failed to report to rendezvous, investigation found signs of struggle and unidentified remains consistent with Team Ko. Samples returned for genetic testing, results still pending.

Shisui feels cold. All he can hear is his heart beating, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, a fast staccato. Too fast, probably. He knows he needs to breathe. He knows this was bound to happen eventually. Ninja are born, they die. But—

Team Ko were young. He thinks. He isn't quite sure he can remember them in particular. Shisui tries to take a deep breath but can't. Why can't he remember them? He knows all of his ninja. He has to know all of his ninja. That's how he keeps them safe. How he kept them safe, he supposes. He isn't doing such a good job of it now.

Despite the chill, Shisui's hands are clammy and he can't get enough air. Suddenly he feels a warm hand on his and then a thunk as Itachi bangs his masked face into Shisui's unprotected one. "Breathe." Itachi's voice is calm as he dictates breaths in and out. And slowly, Shisui claws back some measure of control. As soon as he does, Shisui is mortified. He is Hokage. He can't afford to fall apart like this. He can't afford to—

"Shisui!" Itachi's voice is pitched low, so it won't carry outside the office. Shisui knows Itachi is curious. And he probably does deserve to know, but Shisui can't bring himself to articulate his failure. How can he put into words how completely he let down one of his teams? And he doesn't even have the decency to remember doing it. That's the kicker. He sent them to their deaths and he can't even remember it. It was so insignificant of a moment that—

"They were a chunin squad, right?" Itachi's voice cuts through his thoughts and Shisui shrugs. He can't remember. He can't remember. "This is for an S-ranked mission." Shisui knows that. Why does Itachi have to keep rubbing his failure in his face? He already knows this is his fault. He needs to do better. He will do better.

"I have work to do, Itachi," he says. And he does. There are reports to read, he still needs to check in with the Jounin instructors to see what teams they are sending to Suna, he has to write letters of condolences to the next of kin— he forces his thoughts away. He also has to meet with Danzo about village security. And as much as he dislikes dealing with the man, he'd like to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. When Itachi makes to follow him he shakes his head. "It would help me a lot if you could look over the details for the chunin exam. I've already reviewed it, but it could use another set of eyes."

"Yes, sir," Itachi says, subdued, and Shisui knows he hears what isn't said. Please, give me space. I can't deal with this and you right now. Itachi is a professional and Shisui's friend. He understands. He won't let this affect him, and Shisui promises himself he'll make it up to Itachi as soon as things in the village finally settle down.

Normally, Shisui would have Danzo come to him, both as a petty reminder of his place and because Shisui honestly doesn't have the time to search the man out every time he needs to talk. But now the Hokage office, spacious as it is on a normal day, feels like it is closing in around him, suffocating him. In short, the walk to ANBU headquarters comes as a relief.

As he walks, Shisui carefully places everything not directly relevant to the meeting at hand in a box in the back of his mind, when dealing with Danzo, he can't afford distractions. First his exhaustion, then his guilt and… other emotions he doesn't want to identify. Slowly he feels himself relaxing. Numb emptiness replacing his earlier concern. By the time he makes it to the Danzo's office, he has mastered himself.

The meeting passes in a blur. Shisui knows they came to an agreement, but he can't remember what exactly it was. Something about continuing to monitor police conduct, especially in the face of rising tensions with the civilian population. The details don't matter. Nothing he does will satisfy the Uchiha or the village. There is nothing to do but wait until his family commits treason, however long that takes, or until he breaks.

By the time Shisui returns to the office that evening, Itachi is missing. It's clear, however, that the younger ninja has done more than just look through the chunin exam preparations. The large pile of papers Shisui would have been dreading, if he still had that kind of capacity for emotion, has been sorted into several smaller ones, each carefully labeled and ordered by relative urgency. Several of them also have a sheet of annotations.

It must have taken hours, but Shisui can't bring himself to feel much of anything besides vague acknowledgement. Instead, he starts the tedious task of reading, signing and replying.

Itachi returns an indeterminate time later. He brings Yakitori with him, but despite not eating anything since their shared lunch earlier that day, Shisui isn't hungry. Guilt and fear churn in his stomach when he lets his mind think of anything other than the task at hand. So he doesn't.

Soon the days fall back into the pattern of monotony they had had before, but somehow he finds it harder and harder to care. It's not that there are less decisions to make or that they are less important, but where before he had felt some sense of pride accomplishing them, now there is just numbness.

So when Danzo of all people ends their weekly check-in early saying, "You can't blame yourself for everything," Shisui is so surprised he can't follow the non sequitur.

"Pardon?" The word slips out before he realizes he's spoken.

"The chunin squad, their deaths were," Danzo pauses, probably searching for the right word, not that there is one here, "unfortunate. But your duty is to the entire village. If you can't handle it, you need to either get help or step down."

Shisui doesn't want to listen to this. He has other things to do today. But Danzo keeps talking. "Listen, son, we all make mistakes." Shisui tries to shrug away as Danzo places a hand on his shoulder, but there isn't enough room.

"I'm not your son," he says, not bothering to hide the hostility in his voice or the tension in his body. His fingers twitch towards the kunai holster on his leg.

Danzo continues as if he hadn't been interrupted, the cadence of his voice almost hypnotic. "The important thing is to learn from them. No man is an island. Yes, they died. But they knew what they were going into. They chose to become ninja and they knew the associated risks when they did." Knew the risks? Shisui is too tired to laugh, but he almost wants to. What academy child understands the risk of death when they sign up? What genin understands that every mission might be their last? If Konoha cared about informed consent, they wouldn't recruit six-year olds, they wouldn't send pre-teens into combat situations.

"Look, son," Danzo's breath smells like ginger and it makes Shisui's stomach churn and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"I'm not your son."

"Let me help you. You need to take a break. You expect too much of yourself. Let me handle some of the day to day paperwork. Intel, OFA or ANBU can assist with external affairs."

As if suddenly noticing Shisui's discomfort, he lets go and takes a step back. "You won't be able to help anyone if you work yourself to death."

"Noted," Shisui says as he shoves past Danzo and out. He needs to get away.

As soon as he leaves the tower, he can feel Itachi approaching him, but a quick hand gesture sends him away. Shisui can't handle him right now. Shisui can barely handle himself right now.

Without any input from his mind he finds himself walking toward the Uchiha district, though that's probably the last place he should go for anything approaching peace or solitude. Instead he makes a deliberate turn toward the outer training fields, taking less used side streets to avoid everyone.

His thoughts keep circling. Team Ko, The Clan, Danzo, Suna. They're all tied together yet completely unrelated and — he stops his thoughts. No.

But… Danzo is right. He isn't coping well. He can't continue like this. He needs hel—he forces his thoughts away. He needs to review paperwork, go over mission assignments. He needs to be productive.

He's so tired though. He cannot continue like this. He needs… he needs advice.

Shisui tries to run through a list of people he could actually talk to, but it's not long. Itachi doesn't deserve any of this dumped on his head. He's just a kid and has enough to deal with already. And beyond that, something inside Shisui revolts at the idea of showing Itachi just how broken he has become. So Itachi is out. That leaves… not many people.

Hiruzen could maybe help. But Shisui can't look him in the eyes without feeling guilt. He doesn't think he could force himself to face that right now. He feels too brittle to risk falling apart in front of the third Hokage.

Danzo can't be trusted. As much as Shisui respects the man and values his advice, he knows not to show weakness in front of a predator. The discussion they had earlier today was already way too much.

That leaves only Hatake. He likes to think that the two of them have a certain understanding. Even if it can be slightly antagonistic at times. Hatake loves the village and doesn't want power. He also doesn't mince words and hates talking about emotions as much as Shisui. There really is no alternative, Shisui supposes.

Tracking the other ninja down is easy. The man spends most of his free time by the memorial stone. Guilt and regret practically drip down his shoulders as he hunches over it, tracing the names of his lost teammates.

"Hatake," Shisui says without preamble, walking to stand a few steps from the taller man. "I need you."

Hatake straightens as he turns to look at Shisui, his face a calm façade. "Hokage-sama," he says. There is a slight emphasis on the title though Shisui can't quite place. "How may I assist you today?" Shisui can see a slight quirk under the mask, likely meant to be a smile, but the tension in Hakate's body tells another story.

"You've heard about Team Ko?"

Hatake nods lazily, though his posture is still too stiff for true nonchalance, "Chunin team, KIA a few weeks back. What about them?"

Shisui tilts his head, "I killed them." It isn't what he had meant to say, but it's no less true.

Hatake's reaction is immediate, all feigned indifference gone and sharingan blazing. He doesn't move for a weapon. Though ninjutsu was always Hatake's specialty, so that doesn't mean much. "Explain yourself, Uchiha."

Shisui shrugs. He can't bring himself to feel threatened by Hatake, can't bring himself to feel much of all these days, so that's hardly a surprise. Normally, he has no doubt he could take the other man. They might both be geniuses of the sharingan, but Shisui has a natural-born level of control that Hatake will never be able to match. In his current state though, his reflexes have slowed and he doesn't even know if he has the focus to mold chakra. Even so, he can't bring himself to care.

"I assigned them a mission they weren't qualified to handle. A death," his voice breaks on the word and he has to take a breath, "A death sentence."

Hatake hasn't relaxed, but he hasn't attacked either. Shisui isn't sure if he's disappointed or not. "Did you do it on purpose?"

Shisui shrugs again. Does it matter if it was intentional? They're no less dead.

"Did you kill them on purpose, Uchiha." Shisui looks up at him, and holds his arms to his sides, away from his body with fingers lax. He is as disarmed as he can be without physical restraint.

"Does it matter?"

Hatake looks like he wants to yell, his whole body is shaking with contained anger or frustration or… Shisui doesn't know. His head hurts and he's starting to regret coming here at all. He doesn't know what he hoped to get from this, but he's pretty sure he's ruined any chance of getting it already.

"Of course it-" Hatake stops, snaps his mouth shut and inhales deeply through his nose. "You are fucked up Uchiha. You need help."

Yes. He does. Shisui sits down slowly, back leaning against the memorial stone. "That's actually why I came here," he admits. "I think… I think I might be over my head and I don't know what to do." Once he starts talking he can't stop. The words just keep pouring out, tripping over themselves in their eagerness to get out. He finds himself admitting to things he hasn't told anyone. His fears of his own inability to manage everything. The black spots that might be hallucinations from sleep deprivation, from stress or else something else entirely. The fact he can't look at Itachi most days without feeling some sort of irritation, how he can't look at anyone without feeling irritated. At some point, Hatake sits down next to him. He isn't sure when that happened. He hasn't actually been paying much attention to Hatake. It almost doesn't matter if there's anyone to hear him. Just saying everything feels a little better.

Though, now that he's thinking about everything again – Oh god I killed them. I killed them. I killed them – the guilt comes back so much stronger than before.

His face stings and he only realizes his eyes were closed as he opens them. Hatake is leaning forward, looking him in the eye. "Focus Uchiha, you're no use to anyone like this." And he's right. Shisui can't do anything like this. He can't- "Look, there's a reason this whole bureaucracy exists. You know that, right?"

Shisui nods. Hatake doesn't look like he believes him. "You don't have to handle everything yourself. No one expects that from you. You are Hokage. You are the strength of the village." Hatake shakes his head. "Look, no one expects you to be an entire village yourself. The Hokage leads, but he has to trust those under him to do their jobs as well."

"Their lives are mine to protect," Shisui whispers. "How can I do that if I'm not the one looking out for them?"

Hatake's laugh sounds desolate as he collapses back against the stone. "You do realize who you're talking about, don't you? Shikaku is probably the soundest tactical mind in the village, bar none. There's a reason he was appointed Jonin commander. Just let him do his job, so you can do yours."

Shisui thinks about it. If he didn't spend so long on mission assignments, he would probably have more time to allocate to dealing with his clan and the Daimyo and Danzo and figuring out what is going on with procurements, because for months now requisitioned supplies have been of a markedly lower quality. And just because he isn't the one handling all of the missions doesn't mean he wouldn't be handling any of them. ANBU reports directly to him after all, and their missions have the highest stakes. If he didn't have to worry about lower ranked missions, he would have more time to keep people like Itachi safe out in the field.

It still burns to admit. All of this mess is his fault. He knows that. He's never pretended it wasn't. But to admit that it might have also been even slightly unnecessary. Shisui can't say it.

Hatake is a mind reader though, so it doesn't matter. "You're not half bad, Uchiha," he says. He had reached to pat Shisui on the head, but his hand stops halfway, as if realizing they aren't actually quite friends.

Shisui thinks for a moment before saying, "You know, you've put up with a lot from me, I don't have many friends, but I would be honored to consider you one." He rubs his teeth over his bottom lip for a second before adding, "You can also call me Shisui, if you want."

Hatake laughs and mutters "This has got to be the strangest day of my life," before saying in a louder tone, "Alright Shisui, you can call me Kakashi. Us Uchiha outcasts have to stick together."

Shisui closes his eyes. Uchiha outcasts? He supposes they are. While he's never considered Hatake – Kakashi – an Uchiha, he's not exactly wrong either.

For the first time in months, Shisui is relaxed enough that he slips into a dreamless sleep.