A/N: Hey all :) Been a while, no? ~*Shot*~ I know I'm kinda in no position to be writing another multi-chapter story, considering the way my previous one has gone. Or not gone. But honestly, I am still trying to figure out where it is going, so I haven't completely given up . Well, here's my newest story, and sorry for an ooc-ness for any characters. But, it had to be done, considering the story and-all? Anyways, Enjoy 3

Summary: AU/She's an assassin. He's a world famous pianist. When their only relationship should be that of 'protector', and 'protected', why is it that she finds not only his piano, but his entire self hypnotic?

Disclaimer: Honestly? Do I need it? If I really owned Soul Eater, I'd have made Soul jump Maka by now. So no, unfortunately, I do NOT own Soul Eater. End of. :'(

An Unavoidable Request?

"Well, I would first of all, like to thank each and every one of you for attending this get together of mine."

Pathetic...

"It warms my heart to know that you all care enough about me to take time out of your busy schedules to celebrate with me,"

Stupid...

"Now, to show my appreciation, I have planned a few surprises this evening for you all,"

Doesn't realize that he's about to die...

"But first, let's party!" A chorus of applause rang out from the large ballroom.

Bye-bye~

BANG

The shot reverberated throughout the room, louder than any applause offered, and shocked the audience into silence, before a panicked scream deafened all ears. The stupid man who'd been spouting nonsense in his speech now had his face firmly planted within the food he'd acquired, blood drowning the once white table cloth.

However, I knew only of the shrill scream, as I was already starting up my motorbike from the back of the large manor house. My job was finished. Time to head home. The panicked screams from within the ballroom had escalated into woman shrieking and crying, and men shouting furious commands to surrounding bodyguards, so that the roar of my bike was drowned out, and I drove away unnoticed.

_.:|:._

"I'm home!" I called, kicking my shoes off and slipping a pair of slippers on. A few faces lifted and grinned at me,
"Welcome home, Maka," A few chorused, and then went back to their work.
"Smells good. Something a customer ordered?" I asked, walking up to one of the men, clad in white, who was hovering over a pot of what looked like stew.

He glanced at me and grinned, nodding. "Yea, its Master's newest recipe. Wanna try a bit?" He asked, grabbing a spoon and scooping a little of the liquid from the top. I nodded, eyes shining. Although my papa was stupid, and a pain in the arse, he was a good chef, and his recipes were to die for!

The man chuckled, and brought the spoon over, a hand hovering under it to make sure none of the contents went onto the floor, and stuck it into my open mouth.

As soon as the hot liquid hit my tongue, I squealed in delight. It was surprisingly creamy, considering it looked like runny gravy, and the flavours exploded in my mouth. It was amazing. Seriously. My papa was a genius!

I grinned at the man, opening my mouth as if expecting more, and he flipped me off, chuckling. "No, this is for the customer. Get Master to make more for dinner or something." He said, turning back to the pot and stirring lightly. I pouted, and then giggled.

"Thanks for letting me taste it, Michael." I called over my shoulder, padding out of the kitchen and into the back area where my papa was sat, looking over some documents. He lifted his head up when he noticed I'd walked in, and his face lit up. He leapt over the desk and crashed into me, crushing me in a back breaking hug.

"MAKAAAAAAAA!" He screamed. I gasped for air. This is why my papa is stupid. I reached out for the closest weapon I could find. A hardback book. When I'd grabbed it, I brought it's spine down on my papa's head. Hard.

I stepped over him, as he was now lying on the floor dying, and walked over to his desk. There were documents concerning the restaurant sprawled across the top. What drew my attention, though, was the small pile of papers situated bang in front of papa's chair.

They had assassination mission requests written on them.

I stepped round the table and slid into papa's chair, thumbing through the documents with the requests. "You know, papa, it's a bad idea to keep these kinds of things just lying around your office. What if someone broke in? How would we explain these?" I asked, still looking at the requests. There were more than I thought. Most pretty small, but there were some harder requests every now and again.

Papa picked himself off the floor, and stepped over to the desk, perching on the edge. He glanced down at the documents, and then nodded. "Your right. But, I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to try and break into here." He replied, nonchalantly. I snorted.

He's right about that, though. Who would be stupid enough to try it? Everyone in the town knows that each and every chef here knows how to kick ass. If the thief stupid enough to try was caught, they wouldn't survive until the police got here.

Yes, they know we can fight. They don't know that each and every one of us is a highly trained assassin, though.

Nope, they don't know, and they never will, if we can help it. We get our requests sent by someone from headquarters personally. Requests are made, either for just about any assassin, or a certain assassin, with a set price attached. And, the requests for a certain assassin don't include our real names. We use nicknames.

These requests are sent to us from a person who goes by the name of 'Shinigami'. Nobody knows their real identity. Not even what they look like. Sometimes, I wonder why we work for such a mysterious person, but then after every mission, when an envelope arrives containing a usually large wad of money, I forget I cared.

"Anyway, Maka, how'd the mission go?" Papa asked, skimming through another pile of documents. I smirked.

"In and out before the first person even screamed. Made my getaway while they panicked." I boasted. Papa grinned at me, ruffling my hair affectionately.
"That's my girl." He cooed. I scowled, and then grinned, batting his hand away. I began to leaf through the requests again, but papa placed his hand on top of the pile, stopping their movement.

I glanced at him. "Papa?" I asked, raising an ash blonde brow at him. He smiled, but his eyes held an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"There was a mission request for you." He said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. I brightened, going to grab the paper from his hand. He pulled it out of my reach. I frowned at him.

"I'm not sure it's a request you'd like though..." He said, smiling weakly. I raised a brow. He sighed, a few strands of his red hair falling over his eye. He handed the paper over to me, and I quickly unfolded it, reading the request. My eyes widened.

Request

Assassin ScytheMeister, you have been sent a formal request for the following:
Guard a young man of the name, 'Soul Evans'.
The contract will last a year, and may be extended.
A deposit has already been made of £5,000, and a monthly wage of £1,000 is guaranteed.

Information

Age; 19
A famous pianist.
An eccentric, lazy personality.
Assassination attempts have been previously made.
Your job will include guarding him during both private and public life.

I stared at the piece of paper in my hands. So...

It's... a guarding request...?

...Are you fuckin kidding me?

I looked at my papa. "This is a request to guard someone..." I murmured, horrified. Papa's lips twisted.

"I knew you wouldn't like it..." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "But you can't turn this mission down." He deadpanned. I stared at him.

"...Why?" I asked, feeling numb. He sighed, and then pointed to the request. Or, specifically, a line written in the request.

A deposit has already been made...

I blanched, staring at those six words printed on the paper.

Thos six words, which made my world come crashing down around me...

Preview;

When I heard an explosion, I kinda forgot the knocking part, and just went straight to kicking the door down and rushing inside.

My finger hovered over the trigger, aiming carefully, before I pulled it.

"My name is ScytheMeister. Or at least, that's the name I go by on missions."
"I'm here on a mission to protect a young man by the name of Soul Evans. You, in other words."

"...You'll regret it..."

"I know."