Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1.

AN: Chapter title: Victory

One thousand six hundred and forty-eight Legionnaires had been summoned from the Fifth Cohort in accordance with Caesar's plan. One thousand two hundred and twenty-three Legionnaires had been summoned from the Sixth Cohort for the same. They had each served as one of two great sweeping arms to cut down those who dared to stand against them, to declare themselves enemies of Caesar. The Fifth and the Sixth Cohorts had both emerged, the bulk of each of their forces summoned, at the stadium that no longer stood. Before the sudden blast that had obliterated it, it had been the point where Caesar had decided he could survey the battlefield the village would become in the invasion, would be where he could bear witness to the triumph of his magnificent Legion. It had been where he had decided all would hear him proclaim a grand victory, declare the glory of his Legion, serve as a monument to the power of the force he commanded.

The Sixth Cohort had swept through the village up to the monument that so proudly bore the faces of the Hokage past and present. As Caesar had planned, the Centurion of the Sixth split his forces and reinforced the two lesser gates that had been besieged. The invaders there had fallen to their blades, had scurried like the rats they were in the face of such a superior foe. The Sixth Cohort had taken over and provided the bulk of the defense, supplemented by Shinobi as more and more arrived as the interior of the village was secured. Their foe had challenged their strength twice more in full scale assaults and had failed both times. They had learned the errors of their ways when they had been repelled by the shields and blades of the Sixth's Legionnaires and the wrath of the Leaf's Shinobi. They had not pursued the folly in launching a third attempt. The Sixth had not launched a pursuit. Caesar's orders had been to hold the gates.

The Fifth Cohort had, in turn, swept down and away from the great monument. Caesar had given clear instruction to focus their efforts on securing the main gate to the village. It, and the wall on either side of it, had fallen under heavy assault by the Sand and Sound, by the creatures they had commanded to destroy the walls. The invaders, as Caesar predicted they would, had made plans for it to be their staging ground for further incursions into the village. They had dreamed of it being the lynchpin to the destruction of the Hidden Leaf. The Fifth had unleashed the cold wrath of their blades there, had used their shields to repel the returning blows from their surprised foes. In the fierce battle to follow they had taken heavy, if expected, casualties. The Centurion of the Fifth had strengthened the two Centuries he had planned to face the enemy in the fiercest of the fighting, two hundred turned to four hundred after he had ordered their Centurion of each to fight the battle at double strength. The Fifth had secured the main gate with their ferocity and the unexpected aid of the Toad Sage.

After the slaughter at the gate, the survivors had not launched another attempt. They had instead chosen to retreat with all haste from the blades of the Fifth Cohort of Caesar's Orange Legion. The defense the Centurion of the Fifth had ordered had been much the same as the one undertaken by the Sixth only on a larger scale. It had simply become an exercise in patience then.

At least they had believed such a thing.

As the invasion has reached its end, as the Kazekage found the Hokage to be too great a foe to surpass even with the passage of time, as the Leaf at last launched their counterattack and repelled the combined force of the Sand and Sound, as victory neared, Orochimaru had at last seen the chance to unleash his contribution to the invasion: monsters.

Of the one thousand six hundred and forty-eight Legionnaires that had been part of the initial attack by the Fifth Cohort, one thousand three hundred and twenty three stood at the ready around the main gate. Of the one thousand three hundred and twenty three Legionnaires, three hundred had assumed their rotation of the guard. Their Centurions had commanded a defensive line but nothing else. Their foes had not shown themselves and their scouts had reported nothing but trees, nothing but silence no army could enforce no matter their training, as their sole companion in the forest.

And then the monsters had emerged.

The monsters had slammed into their lines, had torn through their shields with claws and inhuman strength they had not expected. Their blades had cracked, had shattered, when hastily swung. Death fell upon them even as they answered in kind, as their Centurions urged them forward, as the Centurion of the Fifth hastened to the line with reinforcements.

Their foes bled back.

Their brothers bled red.

They had bathed themselves in black.

The monsters gorged themselves on red.

By the time they had repelled the inhuman horde unleashed against them, not even able to claim they slaughtered it to the last, six hundred and forty-nine Legionnaires of the Fifth Cohort still stood. They had fought hard, had refused to allow their line to break no matter the fury of the blow that fell upon them, had stood fast against things that did not have an equal. The creatures that had once been human had torn their shields apart with their strikes, had cackled and roared when their blades had answered their charge, and attacked with wounds no man should be able to fight through, Shinobi or not. But the Fifth had prevailed in the end, had banded together as they always would and baptized themselves in the ebony ichor that had spewed forth from their foes with no end.

They had forced fear on the beasts and driven them to retreat despite their losses, despite how heavy their shields became, despite how great a feat using their blades became. The Fifth had fought on and triumphed over their foes.

In the quiet that came after the attack, the Centurion of the Fifth had seen no choice but to call the rest of his forces to join the battle, to unleash all his strength upon this unnatural and monstrous foe he faced, and the seal had failed. The seal of his Centurions failed.

In the quiet that came, all who stood at the gate knew something had gone wrong, that something had driven their Centurion to something near despair.

He did not have long to dwell on such an astounding discovery.

Another wave, another mad horde, emerged from the forest. The Fifth hardly had the time to clean the blood from their blades, for the Centurions to organize their men and to begin to try and gather their fallen brothers, when they had been beset by a foe that could only be described as monstrous, as savage, as beasts which did not bother to masquerade as man any longer. They had met their roaring and snarling foes with a roar of their own. They had rushed to meet the beasts, to hold the gate, and answered the claws of their foes with blades burning red.

Six hundred and forty-nine became five hundred and three.

The Fifth had pushed back the second attack.

And then they had pushed back a third.

Their numbers became four hundred and thirteen.

And the horde had readied itself for a fourth charge, ushered forward by whoever could call themselves their master to shatter what was left of the Fifth or die trying.

The monsters had charged. Snarling and barking, screeching and howling, screaming and wailing as the mad dogs thundered onward to battle.

The Fifth had readied their black blades and braced themselves behind what remained of their shields.

It did not matter what it took. The men who called the Fifth their home, who called those with them their brothers, would not flee, refused to bend, refused to break. As long as one man who could dare to call himself a Legionnaire remained, the gates would not fall.

They had roared their challenge back to such noisy beasts.

The Legate had arrived with three Centuries of Caesar's Praetorians then. The horde had sought only a mad charge against the Fifth's battered and broken shields with roars when they had been beset by the sudden reinforcements. The Legate of the Orange Legion had lead his forces in from the side, carved a line between the beasts and the Fifth with his sudden attack. It had been a surprise for all, the Praetorians rushing through the village still so far away and any of the Legionnaires the Legion had to spare still on the way. The battle had been furious in those precious few moments, the broken ranks of the Fifth at last given a chance to rest, to regroup, to plan while the Praetorians held the line. The Legate and his force had been bathed in black blood by the time the horde had fallen, the remnants sent fleeing. But the Fifth had been given the chance to breath at last and that was enough.

The fifth charge came only moments after what was once the fourth horde laid upon the blackened ground.

The Praetorians had pushed forward, forced the beasts they fought away from the dead, away from the dying. The Legate had ordered to slaughter them to the last.

It was an order they had gladly followed.

Another force of Caesar's Praetorians would arrive during what would be the sixth time the horde had been unleashed by their master. It was one substantially larger, five Centuries, than that which the Legate had arrived with, three of Caesar's elites. Fury had burned in their red eyes when they had pushed past the dead, pride when they saw what their brothers had done to the rabid beasts that had set upon them.

Both had fueled their swings when they emerged from the village, had urged them to hasten their steps, had urged them to join their brothers and the Legate of Caesar's Orange Legion in battle with the creatures.

No sixth charge would come forth from a burning forest.

The Legate ordered the Praetorians, the arriving Centuries of Caesar's First Cohort, and any the Fifth could spare to burn the forest to the ground.

The Legate had taken command of the entirety of the First Cohort that had been on their way from outside the village and ordered them to hold their positions, to form a fresh defense lest they be besieged by another surprise force. The Legate had contacted the Centurion of the Sixth Cohort and ordered the same, new positions to better defend against any other surprises until fresh scouts could be sent out.

In the flurry of movement, the renewed attack by those of the Legion, the Legate taking command of the entirety of the Legion's forces to coordinate the vast defense of the village, the transfer of authority between the Fifth and the reinforcements consolidated into one force by the Legate, the task of gathering their fallen brothers from the black battlefield, none noticed him until he had nearly reached the gate.

None noticed that Caesar stood among them.

He had come to a stop before the gates and his eyes had taken in the sight before him.

"C-Caesar!" The Centurion of the Fifth staggered before him, refused to let his injuries, to let his exhaustion, lead him into darkness. He brought his fist to his blackened armor. Those that remained of the Fifth Cohort hastened to stand with him, stand with what remained of their arms before Caesar.

Caesar said nothing. He did nothing as he looked upon what remained of the Fifth Cohort of his Orange Legion. His face was one of stone, his eyes not burning red nor did his azure gaze hold a familiar intensity. His eyes merely looked upon what they surveyed.

The Centurion of the Fifth refused to allow his body to fall, refused to drop the salute of the Orange Legion until his Caesar acknowledged such a thing with his own. He did not turn his eyes away from Caesar, did not let the weight of his shame bring him any further disgrace.

"All you see before you is of my own making." At his side a fist covered in black drew forth crimson drops. "I-I have failed my Legionnaires, my Centurions, my Cohort, and you most of all Caesar. It is my shame that I could not hold the gate as you commanded of me, that I have tainted the glory of your Legion's triumph on this day!" He did not look away from Caesar's eyes, did not look away from what must be his silent judgement of his many failures. "I am not fit to command any force, be it 10 men or a thousand. I am not fit to command your Orange Legion, to serve your Uzumaki Empire any longer Caesar. I must ask of you to strip me of my command, to promote one more able than myself. Do not allow me to shame the Fifth Cohort, to shame your Orange Legion, to shame your Empire any longer."

At last, Caesar spoke.

"Don't dare to speak such bullshit!" Caesar's eyes were suddenly alit with fury, burned with crimson light as he roared such words. He took a step and his body trembled from his rage. "If anyone is deserving of shame it is myself!"

The shock of Caesar's words made the Centurion of the Fifth drop his arm.

He, like all who stood with him, all those who called themselves Legionnaires, could only stare.

Naruto did not stop. His rage burned red hot as he took step after agonizing step forward.

"Do not dare to claim what has happened here for it is not yours to claim. I am the one who has failed this day! I have been nothing but a blind fool this entire time! I have been obsessed with naught but a useless folly when I should have been guiding my own force!" He stopped before the Centurion of the Fifth and at last his tears fell. "While I pursued glory, those who I dared to call my brothers stood here dying! Those who I dared to call brothers laid down their lives all for my selfish pursuit!"

His eyes swept over the remains of his Fifth Cohort. A summoned force near two thousand Legionnaires had been cut down to little more than 400.

And it was all his doing.

Again.

He had forgotten the folly of his burgeoning First Cohort against Silver Fang and had begun to see his Legion as unbeatable, as a force without equal. He had thought his Legion was one that would find triumph without end, would find glory, and would not know the bitter taste of defeat.

He did not know defeat but what he felt now was worse.

Shame burned within his eyes, shame at what he had done, at what fate he had given to those so loyal, so devoted.

It was not possible that they could fail him, that they should feel such a vile shame as he. They had fought against impossible odds when the beasts had emerged, defeated such a monstrous foe that any other force would have assuredly fallen against. He had been the one to fail them.

"All day I have been driven by nothing but such a useless thing as personal glory. I have allowed that thing to consume me, to drive me to the insanity of my pursuit of the Sand's Jinchuriki, to drive me to do nothing but follow the beast even after I had sent it running. And I left my men, my brothers, those of my Orange Legion without guidance beyond such simple words. I commanded you to hold the gates and thought of nothing else, did not think of my foe as powerful, and you are the ones who have paid the price, the Legionnaires of the Fifth who have given their lives on this day have paid the price, and I bear nothing. This debt is mine to pay yet these animals did not spill my blood, did not tear my flesh."

"My Legion, my brothers, stood in my place."

His red eyes burned

"Do not dare to let your heart be burdened by this vile weight, this shame you tell me is yours. I will not have it for it is mine and mine alone!" Caesar's fury, his grief, fueled his words. "Victory or defeat, life or death, it all lies upon my shoulders and my shoulders alone! I am the one who issued the commands, I am the one who burdened you with command, and it is I who caused everything I see before me now!"

A crimson shroud enveloped him, the seal those who called themselves the Orange Legion bore, burned with Caesar's might. His gaze was cast not upon the Centurion of the Fifth but upon all of those of the Fifth Cohort.

"This is my duty as Caesar and I shall have none take it from me!"

Hiruzen Sarutobi had not come garbed for another battle. He was once again dressed in the pristine red and white robes of the Hokage, he once again bore the red and white hat he had placed on for the second time in his life. He was no longer a commander on the battlefield, he was no longer issuing orders. That time for such a thing had come and now it had passed.

The invasion was over and the attack on the thought to be weakened Hidden Leaf had proved unsuccessful. The village still stood and their foes had broken against the formidable might of the Leaf's Shinobi.

"These are all of the prisoners?" Ibiki was at his side in a moment as he came to a stop. Before him several dozen Sand and Sound Shinobi had been blindfolded and shackled together. No doubts others were being found around the village, all of them being moved to wherever the head of Torture and Interrogation wished for them to be taken.

"Some. We still have search parties looking for any deserters and any other infiltrators. They'll likely be busy for the next few days." Ibiki glanced away from where the fearful Shinobi rested. "Uzumaki refused to hand over any who surrendered to him."

Silence greeted the fearsome Shinobi's words.

"I will speak with him." Hiruzen at last spoke after a moment, the short time feeling almost as if it was an eternity to Morino.

"There's also something else you should know Lord Hokage." Ibiki didn't truly know what to say but pushed on. "Something's happened to Anko during the attack at the stadium, the Sand's Honored Siblings, Chiyo and Ebizo, attacked her and she…changed."

"I see." Hiruzen's tone was mournful, one of regret as he spoke. "She was an exceptional Shinobi despite what many thought of her."

"She's still alive Lord Hokage. She's been busy with Jiraiya since I managed to inform him about what happened." Ibiki clarified the details for the Hokage, the old man turning to him with unconcealed shock in his aged eyes. "Reports are still coming in from the hospital and scouts but the village didn't take as many casualties as we once believed we would. Shikaku is looking over all the reports and ANBU are heading out and reinforcing the border for the moment."

"Shikaku decided on a new tactic then?" Hiruzen didn't bother with the prisoners, his thoughts were running through too much too fast for him to care at the moment, and Ibiki silently ordered them away with a raise of his hand.

"He believes Orochimaru prepared for our tactics. He's changed them and wants to speak to you about revising our future strategies." Ibiki stayed at his side, Hiruzen did not pay much mind to the familiar ANBU Black Ops that joined his side or the Shinobi

"It is about that time." Hiruzen gave his consent with those words. "Have him speak to me once things slow down."

"Understood." Ibiki vanished from sight in the middle of his next step, recognizing his dismissal.

Hiruzen continued into the Hokage Building, moved past the Shinobi that were moving in and out, and headed to his office.

A half dozen Shadow Clones traveled around the village as he did so, surveying the damage done during the invasion, taking the reports from his field commanders that he could not, and dispelling in sequence as he walked through the halls. He had finished sorting through their memories by the time he opened the door.

"Danzo."

"Hiruzen."

Danzo Shimura had already taken a seat on the other side of the desk. Hiruzen took his time to settle into his seat, to take off the white and red hat that was the Hokage's privilege to wear, and meet the single visible eye of his old friend.

"I believe we both know what this conversation will be about."

"It could be nothing else."

"I believe we both know there is little we agree on."

"Just as I believe we both know that some things we must."

"Yes, there are somethings we must agree on and others we will always disagree on."

"The boy." Danzo did not need to speak a name.

"We have not once agreed on anything concerning him."

There were many things Hiruzen Sarutobi could say now, many things he could do.

The elderly Shinobi could say he had used his force to defend the village, he could say Naruto had shown his true colors, his true loyalty, to the village today, he could tell Danzo of how his forces had been a deciding factor in ending the battle so quickly.

He could tell Danzo to keep his agents away from Naruto as he had done in the past, he could demand Danzo cease bringing up the boy after so many past conversations ventured to his status as the Kyubi's Jinchuriki and his potential as a weapon of the village, he could even order that Danzo not come before him again.

He could say and do any number of things.

All of them would be easy, so easy.

But they would be wrong.

They would all prove to be nothing but disastrous for the future, for the village, for all who called Konohagakure home.

For perhaps even the entirety of the Shinobi world.

He was old.

He was tired.

But he could not let himself make another mistake. He could not afford to make another mistake.

So Hiruzen Sarutobi looked into the eye of Danzo Shimura. He looked into the eye of his longest friend, of the man who so readily took on the darkness of the Shinobi world, the man who served as the roots of the village, of its power. The man who hid so much from him, the man who at times seemed to undermine the very position of Hokage, the man who had brought down his ire more times than he cared to count as they both served the village in their own way.

There was no joy in his eye, there was no hidden triumph. He did not delight in what must be done, he did not delight in the pain he had caused his oldest friend.

He, like Hiruzen, like so many others that had come before them and would come after them, merely wished for Konoha to stay standing.

It was for that reason that he could do this.

"Perhaps we can start today."

AN: Alright. That's it. The invasion is over with and I'll continue this thing now and move on to the next arc/whatever they call these things. I will freely admit, things were skipped over, things were ignored, but I will hopefully be mentioning them later. I still have a general plan for this story and I (for the most part) know what I need to talk about elsewhere still.

I am also just so happy to be finished with this invasion.

So, random question, who reading this likes Tsunade?

Thanks for reading.

Review if you feel like it.

Peace.