I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

Chapter 1: That Night

If Naruto was an artist, he would have described it as beautiful, a masterpiece.

The target was sprawled in the middle of the room, arms and legs spreadeagled like a child's in the process of making snow angels. His bathrobe lay open, revealing a modest physique for a man his age. If it weren't for the hole in his chest and the jagged line slashed across his neck, Kazuo Haruno would have resembled Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Bathed in a stream of blood that oozed steadily from his wounds and cloaked him like a silk blanket.

Heartless, Naruto often reminded himself to be. In Kazuo Haruno's case, it was sadistically sardonic. A deep plunge in the chest, precisely where Naruto's sufficient study of human anatomy told him the heart would be, followed by a swift, deliberately amateurish slash to the throat. The man was dead before the first drop of blood slid down the knife's blade and blossomed on the fine carpet.

It was supposed to look like a robbery. The details he had been given told him that Kazuo Haruno's death could not cause major political complications. His death was not accepted to have been deliberately. A robbery was suggested. Voracity for wealth, a proletarian thief skilled enough to dismantle the security systems and evade the patrols.

Naruto had been particularly careful about arranging the businessman's office to depict the evident carnage of a struggle – a struggle that had not been scaled as destructive enough to have alerted the meagre guards. He had brought a latex glove with him. After pressing the dead man's hand to imprint his fingerprints onto the latex, Naruto had gone around the room knocking over various objects and heaving furniture from their posts to strengthen the illusion. The thief's prints would not be there, of course; no criminal was thick enough to leave his identity exposed. Leather gloves – traceless.

His job done, Naruto stood over the body, paying one last tribute to the man he had just killed. According to his research, Kazuo Haruno had been a relatively good man during his life. His tastes in furnishing were modest, unlike snobbier men of wealthy background Naruto had come across. A man who owned a network of water systems and poured assets to research ways to deliver clean water to areas that didn't have it. A man of no crime but to have become a name that had appeared on Naruto's list.

It was time to leave. He had already spent too long lingering in the estate. Nodding in phantom respect to the bleeding body, Naruto turned away, reached for his mask.

A knock on the large, oak doors.

Freezing, Naruto turned back to face the complication. He stepped back into the shadows by the door, merging with them, becoming a non-substance. Carefully, he drew his knife from its scabbard. A large, ornate desk blocked the body from immediate view from the door. He would disarm the person before he or she could raise the alarm. Yes, Naruto decided, pressing himself further against the wall, eyes slits as they peered out from the darkness, he would do it like that.

Another knock, this time hastier, getting impatient.

The knife gleamed in the darkness.

A faint rattling from the other side and the heavy doors eased open, hinges oiled well enough to produce no sound. A shadow cast onto the floor, dark against the lights from the hallway.

"Father?" a soft feminine voice called out.

Naruto struck. He was a shadow come alive, the deadliest menace. The hilt of the knife crushed into the side of the girl's head, enough force levered behind the half-swing to drop her almost instantly. She gave a startled cry, hardly enough to draw attention, and then crumpled. Motionless.

He didn't want to kill her. Naruto Uzumaki detested killing anyone outside of his target circle. It was needless and futile. He had probably hit her a little harder than necessary. Something glistened wetly amidst the girl's hair. Blood. Concussion was inevitable, not to mention the hell of a headache she would have when she woke. If she woke at all. It was no unsupported theory that skulls of females were thinner than that of males. Naruto would know; he had smashed dozens of the latter and enough of the former.

Edging around the fallen body, weapon still clutched, Naruto knelt slowly in front of the girl. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed. Shallow breaths heaved from her chest, shuddering out her mouth. Alive. Considering she was found before the blood clotted internally, she would live.

Judging from the way she had addressed Kazuo Haruno – there was no one else who had the liberty to occupy the main study in the middle of the night – the girl was likely the businessman's daughter, Sakura, if Naruto had done his homework properly. His trained eye flickered over her features briefly. The notes hadn't been able to offer much information on Sakura Haruno. She had a strange hair colour, he observed. Pink, and it didn't look like it had been dyed, other than the crimson stain that was gradually spreading, making its way past her ear and beginning to trickle down her face.

Naruto sighed and put away his knife. He really had outstayed his welcome.

Just as he was reaching for his mask again, the girl's eyelids fluttered open, revealing emerald orbs that were glazed with pain. Naruto stiffened. They were staring at him. His face, to be specific, yet to be covered by his mask. He yanked the material up, sealing his identity, but it was already too late. The girl had noticed her father's body behind the desk, and if the legs that protruded and the blood pooled around it were any indication, she knew he was dead.

She screamed.

Her agonised cry was cut off when Naruto's hand slammed down on the back of her head, forcing her face into the carpet. Her voice was muffled, and she struggled against him, feebly groping at his arms with her hands. Her fingers found the sleeve of the dark suit he had donned, and her nails scraped against his forearm, breaking the skin. Grimacing, Naruto pushed down harder. At last, Sakura Haruno was silenced. Her hand fell limply onto his lap.

But she had already done enough harm. Already, footsteps were thundering down the hallway. Naruto had memorised the Haruno estate's blueprints, and he knew that the guard room was just around the corner from the study. He could still make a break for it. He would make it, he had confidence in his abilities. Kazuo Haruno had his office on the ground level. If Naruto could just dive out the window from where he had broken in…

But the girl. He glanced back hesitantly at her. There was the possibility that she was still alive. He had only forced pressure against the point he had already injured her, and it was unlikely that she had suffocated on the carpet. Even if she was no longer breathing, she would not stay that way long enough for it to be permanent. She would be found, brought to medical treatment. Saved.

Why the hell did Naruto care? Because she had residue scraps of his skin and blood, his DNA, under her fingernails where she had scratched him, and it would only take a simple investigation to unearth him. Because she had seen his face. Because she was a witness, evidence. He could slit her throat now, like he had done with her father. Naruto's fingers twitched, and then he raised the blade.

But he had left it too long. Already, shadows were charging into sight. Servants, maids. Guards. He could see them now, with their guns. Handguns that weren't likely to fire more than six shots, but when it was three against one, odds were not good. Naruto had not brought his own firearm. In the case – impossible, he'd thought, until now – that he was caught, his contract did not allow him to endanger the client. If he was found with a gun, suspicions would be raised about the death. No, he had only his knife. And no matter how fast and accurate he could throw it, it could not race a bullet.

Naruto leapt to his feet and did the only thing he could. He took Sakura Haruno with him, held her in front of his body. A shield. She was heavy and limp in his arms.

"Miss, what-" The guard's sentence was bitten off and the guns raised to firing height. "Intruder!"

"Don't move," Naruto warned, pressing the knife against his hostage's slim, exposed neck. "I'll kill her before you can fire." His voice was calm, controlled, confident. His tone left no room for disagreement. He would kill Sakura Haruno without blinking if he had to. "The father's dead; you don't want the daughter to follow." The leather hilt was slippery in his hands. Blood, from Sakura's head wound.

The men hesitated. Kazuo Haruno had not hired the professional muscle, rather those that were aging steadily and had children at home. Any training these men might have undergone had long since expired pitifully. After all, it wasn't like anyone tried to assault the Harunos on a regular basis. They weren't even considered a threat.

The servants behind them cried out. One edged toward the door. Naruto took a step back, tugged Sakura with him. "Stay there! No contact." To demonstrate his control of the situation, he pressed the blade against the girl's neck, drawing a thin red line on the pale skin.

A bulky man with a moustache and age that neared retirement more than prime, seemingly the one in charge, grimaced, his beady eyes flickering from what he could see of Kazuo Haruno's body to his daughter's unconscious form. "Alright," he said after a long pause. "Let Miss Haruno go. We will allow you to leave the premises. Just leave the girl."

Naruto almost snorted. How dense did they think he was?

This was exactly why he despised these sort of kills, where the method was specified and crudely chosen. Naruto preferred to be the king's dark-intentioned jester. People warmed to him, no matter what disguise he wore. They trusted him, believed him to be who he claimed to be, laughed at his antics, allowed themselves to be left alone with him, resigned themselves to their fate. Even if he knocked on their door and the first words he uttered were "I am your death", they would still let him in and be fooled by his friendly demeanour. It was so much less messy than these rudimentary methods. All that blood spilt… but as long as the target was dead, Naruto's mission was done. It was all that mattered, right?

He was almost by the window now, further away than he would like, but still manageable. The girl had to come with him. If she didn't, the guards would assault him on his escape. He had a hostage. They would hold their fire.

"Fine," he called to his company. He bent at the knees, coiled his muscles. "I'll leave the girl. I don't need her anyway."

The guards' gun arms lowered slightly, uncertainly.

Naruto grabbed hold of Sakura Haruno and, with relative ease, tossed her outside, onto the lawn. Before the first alarmed shot was fired, he was following her, rolling with the fall. Behind him, the open pane of glass fractured into spiderwebs. Bullet-proof glass, perhaps the only efficient security measure Kazuo Haruno had installed. The dead man had probably saved him; Naruto couldn't be certain, but when he glanced back, his quick analysis told him that the bullet would have more likely embedded itself into the back of his right shoulder than not. Not that he had time to be pondering projectile trajectories. Quickly tossing the unconscious girl onto his back, Naruto ran.

Having a hostage was much more bothersome than the Hollywood movies made it out to be. They were a burden and restricted movement. Naruto would have a much better chance of reaching his car, where he had parked it outside the estate barrier, away from patrol routes, if he didn't have to haul an unconscious girl with him. But he couldn't leave Sakura Haruno. She was evidence - a loose end. That was crime enough for the Agency to terminate him with a good conscience.

Shouts were already coming from the estate, some distantly echoing from elsewhere on the grounds. Lights were flickering on. They were too slow. With their young mistress strewn over his back, the guards were hesitant to take a shot at him. They were forced to chase him down and Naruto was younger and faster than the fittest man in their arsenal.

He made it – of course he did. The bordering fence had already been breached; Naruto had sawed through a portion that was hidden by a bush, the opening just large enough for a young man his size to fit through. He crawled through first, then reached back to pull out his hostage. Sakura Haruno was looking worse for wear now, her clothes soiled by dirt and the blood that was making its way down the side of her face and onto the collar of her shirt. It was unlikely that the guards would be able to find someone small enough, other than a maid, who could follow through the hole. They would have to take the long way through the main or back gates. By then Naruto would be gone.

It was only a short sprint to the vehicle he had prepared. The car's engine started smoothly, quickly, quietly. He tossed his load onto the passenger's seat. Naruto floored the accelerator, leaving the alarms and sounds of starting vehicles behind. A wild shot ricocheted off the hood of his car, leaving a chipped streak on the black paint. Another shattered one of the back windows and burrowed into the leather seat – the guards, shooting desperately through the hole. Then there were no more, and Naruto Uzumaki was speeding into the darkness.

He drove steadily, efficiently. It would have been easier if his right hand wasn't smeared with blood. Blood. Sakura Haruno's blood. Naruto glanced at his hostage, the pale, concussed girl bundled on the seat beside him.

What was he supposed to do with the daughter of the man he had just killed?

This is a sort of prologue. I'm not very good at writing escapades, so excuse me if this chapter seemed a little artificial and unrealistic. In case it was vague in this chapter, yes, Naruto is an assassin - a pretty good one until he almost stuffed up. How and why he became one will eventually be uncovered in future chapters.