A/N: Next chapter! Here, we delve a little deeper into Naruto's mind and emotions, and we see how without direction and drive he is. All he's got left is his determination it seems, but that can only take one so far. This is kind of the "settling in" chapter, as Naruto still has to get used to his new (or old) surroundings, so there isn't too much action. However, it does have a lot of interesting revelations that I'm sure will keep the entertainment value high. Enjoy!

Rinse and Repeat

Chapter Two: Beginning Again

It was easier than he ever suspected to fall into the rhythm, and Naruto soon found many things to occupy himself with. From the moment the academy got out to his collapse in the evening, he trained. He usually slept wherever he fell, which made it easier to start his morning hunt for breakfast, while simultaneously acclimating his body to the will of the elements.

For the time being, Naruto's top priority was physical training. Until his body could take the stress his fighting technique demanded, and then some, Naruto knew his ability to defend himself was compromised— and failing now, after he had come so far and a had a chance to do everything right for once, would be unbearable. He knew all he needed to win a battle, but knowledge would only take him so far.

With a grimace, he remembered Shikamaru's gruesome end. He didn't want to go like that. Knowledge was only one thing in battle, out of many.

However, today the rhythm was broken.

"Well, Naruto, if I knew you were going to spend most of your time in the woods, I would have given you a cabin in the forest rather than the apartment."

Naruto frowned at the Hokage over his breakfast, and decided chewing his meat was more important than a reply.

The Sandaime crossed the clearing of training ground two to sit beside the blonde. "You haven't come to visit me recently. How's the academy?"

Naruto shrugged.

Frowning, the Hokage glanced over the scene surrounding Naruto. There were the fading embers of a cooking fire, a bloodied hunting knife, and discarded entrails. He looked back at the child, grimacing at the sight of the blonde pulling the meat off the bones of some poor creature with hands and teeth. "Is that... a rabbit? Did you catch that yourself, Naruto?"

The boy nodded briskly, snapping a clean bone to suck the marrow.

"Did you clean and skin it yourself?"

Another nod.

"And where did you learn these skills?"

Naruto threw down his finished meal, all the tasty bits gone from its bones. He turned to the Hokage, licking his lips, and noticed the suspicious scrutiny of the Sandaime's eye.

He had figured his sudden change in behavior would cause trouble eventually. However... "I don't want you to smile unless you mean it. Promise me that." He had other things to worry about, rather than acting like the hyper idiot of his youth. He wasn't a kid anymore.

He was a ninja.

"Book."

The Sandaime's eyebrows rose. "A book? You read a book?"

Naruto pretended to be affronted. "The library is open to everyone, isn't it?" Actually, it wasn't. The librarians had always been sure to keep him out. However, when he was eight, he hadn't even known how to read, so it didn't make a difference to him. But nobody knew that, not even the Hokage, because no one had cared to notice.

"Ah, I see... You've been busy, Naruto, hm?"

Naruto shrugged. The Hokage could think what he liked, as long as he wasn't thinking that Naruto was being possessed by his demon or something. He had been possessed enough times to be wary of even the possibility, even if it was only in other people's minds.

"I hear you've been training almost non-stop for the past couple weeks." prompted the Sandaime. "Any reason for the sudden urgency?"

"I have to get stronger."

Sarutobi smiled crookedly. "Your impatience remains, I see. Has Yamato-san taught you well?"

Naruto scowled, but he nodded anyway. Trouble would set his schedule back, and the Sandaime didn't need to know the details of his life anyway. He had survived his own life by his own means once, and this time around he had the advantage of knowing what to expect.

"Good, good..." the Hokage nodded, and studied the blonde for a moment more. "Well, I do have work to do..." he turned, but kept Naruto in the corner of his gaze. "Why don't you come by my office this afternoon? I've yet to see you in my office since I gave you that apartment. Have you gone clean, Naruto?" The old man smirked.

Naruto smiled just slightly, with only his self-restraint keeping his face from twisting into a sadistic grin. "I just don't have time for pranks, old man." Contrarily, he had tons of time for them. In fact, he set aside a couple hours just for that every Sunday. However, he just happened to be far more discrete than he had been as a child. Besides, he doubted the Hokage would appreciate having to punish Naruto for his recent pranks, and Naruto definitely didn't want to have to owe several hundred thousand ryou in property damage. All of his victims deserved it, anyway.

Sarutobi blinked. Though he would never admit it, he had missed being addressed with "old man." He relaxed a little, maybe Naruto wasn't so changed after all. "Well, I suppose that would put the townspeople at ease." He turned away. "I hope I'll be seeing you, Naruto."

The blonde watched him go, noticing the new felicity in the man's step, and knowing he had something to do with, but not knowing how. He realized he didn't know all that much about the Sandaime. The fact that he could say he was his first friendly acquaintance from his early childhood said a lot about his social activity. Naruto sighed quietly. He had other things to worry about, he had made friends once, and lost them, and now he had to concentrate on saving their lives. His social network and its renewal would have to wait.

He wouldn't have time to visit the Sandaime. It was Saturday, and that meant shopping, and stealth and chakra control combo training— all in one.

He wasn't sure why the time travel jutsu had messed up his chakra control. His body was one thing, but his mind was another, and other than that, his intelligence seemed intact. However, he was glad progress in that area, now that he had experienced it once, was going much faster. Even his smallest, least demanding jutsu were useful.

When Naruto was a child, the market had been a very scary place. With the glares of the bustling crowd, and the stalls that would be mysteriously closed whenever he came by, the atmosphere was quite hostile to the little Jinchuuriki. Thanks to this, Naruto had sought out other places to buy his necessities. Considering the upscale shops chased him out, young Naruto had had to rely on the shadier back-alley stores. This meant his food was generally bought close to or even past the expiration date— yet another reason ramen was his ideal meal back then, since it had no such limitation— and his ninja equipment was old or faulty. And all of this was sold to him at inflated prices. However, what really hurt was that it had taken Naruto years to figure out he was being cheated at all.

Naruto wouldn't put up with that this time, especially when he knew ways to get around it. He would shop in the method he had gotten used to, and make some great bargains in the process.

"Ah! Naruko-chan! Did you like the special apples I gave you last week?"

A basket full of goodies over her arm, the busty Naruko giggled and blushed cutely. "Oh, Shaami-san! They were delicious!"

The shop owner grinned and, as was ritual now, reached behind his stand to pull out a little bag. "Can you guess what I've got for you this time, Naruko-chan?"

"Oh! You spoil me! At least let me buy something first!"

Those silly merchants. It was so easy; all it took was the right pose at the right time, and they fell head-over-heels for Naruko's impossible body. They were all perverts, the lot of them.

Naruko walked away from the stall with more free stuff than she needed, and the ever-present gleeful smile on her face.

The only difficulty was in holding the henge for so long. He had the chakra reserves to hold it for days without pause, but it was really a matter of control. If he lost his focus for even a moment, the illusion of the busty blonde would dissipate, leaving behind a tiny, unwelcome Jinchuuriki in the middle of the crowded market.

"Naruko-chan! Come see what I've got for you today!"

The blonde turned and skipped toward the stand where Naruko had gotten her supply of clothing and cloths for herself and her "nephew." She got a couple stares as she frolicked across the boulevard, but most of them came from those of the male persuasion, and were centered on her bouncing bosom.

"Sobi-san! I was almost going to pass you by! I don't think I have any clothing needs today..." She cocked her head to the side and pouted cutely.

The merchant's eyes sparkled at the sight of the Barbie doll posing in front of his stand. "Well, I know how you like bright colors, and I just got a shipment in today..." He disappeared for a moment, before popping up again with a package wrapped in canvas.

Sobi flipped the cloth package open, and Naruko's breath froze in her throat.

It was orange. Bright, obnoxious, traffic cone orange. It was made of a stiff, water and heat-resistant cloth that still managed to be almost silent whenever a movement would cause the material to rub together. It even already had a spiral patch sewn to the shoulder.

It was his.

Naruto remembered the day he had found it, lying on top of a pile of garbage in one of the dumpsters he frequented. To his child's eyes, it had seemed to glow, and not just because of its fluorescent color. Ninja wear was expensive, and far beyond his meager means at the time. He didn't care about color, all that mattered was that he had found something to wear that could withstand the stress of a mission, and— he had found out later— blood and grit and other unpleasant substances would wash out of easily.

For one which good fortune usually overlooked, it had been a miraculous stroke of luck for young Naruto, despite the ridicule he later endured for his beloved orange suit.

"Oh, this! Not this, it's just a bonus item the company I order from wanted to get rid of. I'll just be throwing this out—"

"No!"

Sobi jumped as the orange fashion mistake was suddenly gone from his hands. He looked up at Naruko with wide eyes. "I have some scarves for you..." he tried hesitantly. "I thought you'd like..."

Naruko wasn't listening. Her hands were shaking, as she held the orange jumpsuit. She hadn't been mistaken. This was it.

"I want this."

"Na-naruko-chan?" Sobi didn't quite know what to do with the usually cheerful girl suddenly looking so pensive. "Is it maybe for your nephew? If that's the case, I have something much better—"

"How much? I'll pay anything."

The merchant flinched, shrinking under the unyielding sapphire gaze. When she looked like that, Naruko was a little... scary. "Uh— you can have it, I guess. For free. I was just going to throw it away—"

"Thank you, Sobi-san!" The blonde chimed, bending at the waist with the jumpsuit clutched to her chest.

"Ah, but Naruko-chan! I have these—"

"Bye, bye, Sobi-san! I'll see you next week!"

"Ah... but this fabric came all the way from Mist country..."

That evening, after a much-needed, stress-relieving training session, Naruto came home.

The suit was laid out on his bed, as he had left it.

He stared at it for several minutes, before giving in to the urge to put it on.

It fit just like he remembered, the pants would always be too baggy, and the shoulders would always be tight in the wrong places. Even so, it felt like a second skin. He had grown up in that jumpsuit.

Naruto took his time with the last zipper, and then he stood there for several more minutes. Orange sleeves encroached on his palms; it would be a couple years more before he would really grow into the jacket.

Finally, breathing deeply, he turned to study his reflection in the mirror atop his bureau.

There he was, Uzumaki Naruto. Hokage, future, past, and present. Jinchuuriki to the Kyuubi no Kitsune. Hero to the troubled. Protector of the weak. Keeper of the Kazekage's heart.

And the Demon Fox of Fire Country. The Warrior Trickster. The Orange General.

The image in that mirror would strike fear in the heart of anyone not on Konoha's side in twenty years, and even many of those who were.

By then the five countries and more would know the stories of the destruction left by his Bunshin army, disposable soldiers of infinite numbers, all exact copies of the original, who was formidable even alone.

He had once conquered and occupied the capital of Iwa with his fluorescent battalion.

Once ridiculed for his fashion choices, the orange became a fearsome color as long as he wore it. Enemy ninja fled at the sight of his bright silhouette.

His hands clenched, but he didn't notice the painful dig of his fingernails in his palms.

This jumpsuit was the mark of a great ninja, a veritable god on the battlefield, a murderer. Blood had darkened its bright color so often that eventually he had forgotten there was a difference between orange and red.

"Naruto! What are you doing?"

"Cleaning." I gruffly replied, intent on my task.

Shick-ick-ick. Shii. The kunai did not go smoothly through the cloth, but he persevered nonetheless.

Slender fingers wrapped around my hand, stopping the kunai's jerking journey. "I think water and soap would better serve that purpose."

I grit my teeth, trembling against the surprisingly strong grip of that small hand, though I could have broken it if I wanted.

The hand with the kunai was gently pulled away from my torso, where I had been slicing away the stained orange from my cursed skin.

Gaara pried the weapon away with a scowl. "You're being ridiculous."

"Let go of me!" I snarled.

"Naruto..." sighed he.

I flinched as he brushed his lips across my knuckles. I knew it was supposed to be a comforting motion, but I couldn't bear it. I tore my hand from his grip. "Don't touch me!"

But I was sorry for doing it, as hurt flashed in his eyes, before being hidden behind opaque teal. "You're being ridiculous." he repeated.

"I'm sorry..." I mumbled, seeing him closing himself off from me was even more unbearable than his touch. "I— don't want you to get dirty." It sounded crazy, now that the words had been spoken. And even crazier considering he had killed more than I in the battles behind us.

However, the beautiful thing about Gaara was he always came away clean. The sand devoured any splatter from his crude techniques, leaving him as if he had never committed any act of murder or cruelty.

Gaara gave me an amused look, and snatched my fingers again. "Dirty? What if I want to be dirty?"

His grip was unyielding this time as he unfolded my hand, but my fingers still trembled as he rubbed his cheek into my palm. His flawless skin against the filth there— ground in dirt, sweat, and blood. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I also wanted more of that contact, a selfish indulgence though it may be. His touch was like distilled calm, cooling the hellish heat of my skin.

I flinched as his lips enveloped first my thumb, then each of my fingers, sucking gently. He finished with an amused look my way, and twirled his tongue in the shallow valley of my palm, before going on to follow the vulnerable underside of my arm all the way to my elbow.

I was so focused on the path of that wet muscle, that I jumped when I realized he had wrapped an arm around my waist to move closer.

"Gaara..." I called uncertainly, as he so skillfully slipped into my reluctant embrace, that I wondered how he had gotten there. Even so, my arms wrapped around him, and crushed our bodies together nearly against my will.

He chuckled as I buried my nose in his hair, desperately gasping his scent. He smelt like he felt— my reprieve.

I flinched again, going still as I felt his fingertips on my bare pectoral, tracing the outline of my heart where I had turned my jumpsuit to ragged strips.

He blessed the spot with a chaste kiss. "Naruto... you've certainly made a mess of yourself."

I swallowed as his lips followed the circular scar over my heart to my collarbone. I had killed and tortured, won and lost in the worst ways, such that it was a surprise I hadn't broken sooner. I was the luckiest man in the world that I had someone to pick up the pieces.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" His tongue darted out to explore the hollow of my throat, and I made a soft, needy sound.

Naruto grit his teeth, knowing that there was no redhead to hold, but hugged himself anyway.

He had turned his eyes from the mirror, even in his childhood he had avoided his own reflection, as it was so easy for him to pick apart his own cheer. However, that habit was by now ingrained in him to such a degree that going against it simply felt unnatural.

He would have to get rid of that mirror, or at least hide it from himself where no unintended glimpse would remind him of the monster he had become.

Naruto slipped out of the jumpsuit so fast, he might as well have jumped out of it. He stood there for several minutes in his underwear, staring down at the crumpled pile of fluorescent material at his feet.

He should destroy it. He wanted to destroy it.

But even he knew such an indulgence would not stave off the future to come.

Besides, deep down, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it. Even if he could barely stand it anymore, there were still good memories that he had experienced wearing that jumpsuit, even if they were from long ago, from a time that didn't exist anymore— even before he left his own time.

"Weren't you the one that taught me to take the good with the bad?"

Naruto flinched, screwing his eyes tight. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it, to have his words echoing in his head, but knowing there was no body left to voice them. No lips left to shape them. No breath left to carry them.

He gasped, opening his eyes with the realization that the scream echoing in his ears was his own, and that according to the pain, his fingernails had broken the skin of his palms.

Willing his eyes not to tear— he had cried enough, already— Naruto dared let his gaze fall upon the orange monstrosity again.

He fell to his knees, hands shaking as he reached for it.

How could he forget? In this timeline, the jumpsuit was as of yet unstained.

The voice was back, really just a remnant of an old conversation, but even out of context it fit within Naruto's thoughts. "The past is past. Nobody can change that. But you can change the future, all you have to do is try." Of course, this was a unique situation. Naruto's past was also his future. Gaara had urged him to change it, to throw a wrench in the wheel of fate.

"You don't believe in fate, Naruto."

He flinched, but chuckled lightly. "You're right, it's hypocritical..." he said aloud, not caring that it might make him look crazy.

However... he wasn't so sure if he, just one person, could single-handedly change the course of the world. Sure, he was the number-one surprising ninja, a genius of hard work.

But hell, he didn't even know where to start. He knew the next great shinobi war would begin in more than a decade, and even if Naruto put all his efforts into strengthening Konoha's forces and defenses, it would still fall. He had learned from experience that even if he planned and prepared to the utmost, the enemy would find a way around it.

Also, he wouldn't get the political power he needed to strengthen their alliances and negotiate peace until after Tsunade died, which would mean the war would have already been well under way and Konoha would be too afraid of losing to protest her successor as Hokage, the Kyuubi no Jinchuuriki.

What could he, Uzumaki Naruto, who, at this point in time, was generally considered the village pariah, do?

"Why don't you start at the beginning?"

How unhelpful. How like Gaara, the ever enigmatic child of the desert.

Naruto sighed, looking down, where his hands grasped the rough material of the beloved and hated jacket.

He lifted it up, until it was level with his gaze.

As of now, no matter what his own eyes saw, it was a clean, flamboyant, horribly bright jumpsuit. If he walked out in the streets wearing it today, it would be seen more as a clown suit than the mark of a hardened killer.

He swallowed pensively, and brought the cloth to his face. He smelled the factory starch, and the faint scent of plastic.

It was brand new.

The next day, he wore it.

Despite the fact that he had to stow away that wretched mirror, lest he glance at his reflection and shudder at what he saw, he reveled in the familiar feeling.

He got incredulous looks in the street, was struck with disgusted stares from passing ninja, and was the brunt of numerous jokes from the children, who were cruel in the way only children could do innocently—but he loved it, it was like coming home again.

It really was the beginning.