A/N: Hello, dear readers, and welcome to my first real attempt at a fanfic OTHER than one related to Hellsing! I generally steer clear of anything besides Hellsing because, for some reason, I have no luck with them. However, this idea sort of...struck me, and after seeing very few SakuraxGaara fics which I enjoyed, I decided to take a crack at it. As the description says, this is set in an alternate universe so please keep that in mind. And, just in case I tricked you, I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Nearly impossible, of course, fraught with danger and overwhelming in its magnitude of importance to the universe itself, probably wouldn't succeed, etcetera, etcetera…

But a simple mission nonetheless.

She had been…excited, she supposed, intrigued for sure when they found her, sought her out despite the careful guards she had placed around herself and her identity, around what little bit of a life she had built for herself. Had it not been the grave nature of their request, Sakura was fairly sure they never would have found her, let alone had the balls to approach her. Though they kept their benefactor under wraps, she had a feeling that it was likely the major players in the Galactic Union, the ones who financed the solutions and made the worlds go round, each of them willing to sacrifice more than was seemingly possible to attain her services. Not that they had told her this information; she simply assumed it from the sheer tenacity with which they had pursued her. She supposed money could do literally everything these days; buy bread, sell organs, purchase a person, find and then, perhaps, hire an assassin…

It had not, of course, been any of the higher ups, the paper pushers with everything to lose or to gain, who had come knocking on her shitty apartment's door. No, what she had found when she had slid the chain from it's catch, flipped the deadbolt and opened the door had been six suited men, two of whom had had guns pointed directly at her face.

She supposed that the ensuing destruction had at least been partially her fault for neglecting to use her peephole first.

Even now, seated in her kitchen with a cigarette (for use only when stress or anger had surmounted her nearly endless wall of calm) just about gone, she found that she couldn't comprehend why it was they had so brazenly attacked her. Not that they had posed much of a threat; they had severely underestimated her capabilities and, as such, the two hired guns with mediocre sidearms had posed little threat. Not that she was especially happy about the now shattered excuse for a coffee table and the already worn couch riddled with bullet holes. Considering for what purpose they had sought her out for, their brazen attack had come as quite a surprise. It had been only after the two with the guns had been taken away to the hospital, one of whom was now missing an arm, the neighbors in her complex peeking from behind mostly closed doors to snoop, that they managed to calm her enough to present their proposal. Though, if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she was even more surprised that she had managed to keep from killing the rest of them.

"So… allow me to fully analyze and understand this situation." She'd been seated in one of her dining room chairs, their straight backs curiously comfortable despite the rigidity of them. Her legs crossed femininely and demurely at the ankle, a hand clasped just so atop her lap. With a final drag of her cigarette, she smashed the filter in the tray beside her and settled her other hand on her knee. Pink locks, just barely brushing her shoulder, seemed filled with a life of it's own as it crackled around her face with dangerous energy. Icy jade eyes stared coolly at the man seated in front of her, catching every breath, each shuffle, every muscle movement of the men before her.

With only one remaining chair it had been the smallest of the remaining group, his suit more impressive and crisp and obviously more expensive than the others, who had taken a seat. The remaining three men stood behind him, hands clasped before them and eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses. Were her eyes not so perfected, she may have missed the subtle evidence of their fear; tiny beads of sweat at their hairlines, eyes flickering behind their sunglasses…even the slight fidgeting of the man furthest from herself. She had to refrain from chuckling at their blatant fear, nearly embarrassed by the fact that they called themselves "professionals." Though she supposed this was positive; it seemed that at least the rumors were enough to frighten even the most hardened of men.

"You want me to kill a child."

"An infant, to be exact, Ms. Haruno. But it is not truly a -"

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time." Sakura said, waving her hand vaguely in his direction, gaze directed at her house plant as the last threads of smoke wafted from the ashtray. Her gaze remained rooted on it, as though she were interested solely in this very obviously dead, or dying, plant. The drooping leaf (as the others had fallen into the pot some time ago) and the brownish color that had replaced the vibrant green it had come to her with simply reeked of death. The damn thing just refused to live; too much sunlight and it shriveled, not enough and it wilted with the effects only made worse depending on how much water she gave it…

"You want me to kill this…demon infant before he can grow old enough to fulfill some prophesy, which, by the way, I have never heard of, all whilst infiltrating the Halorei "Kingdom"-" She snorted here, rolling her eyes for emphasis; she'd never been fond of the term "kingdom". " -and, if possible, learn of any other plans they may be concocting." She took a breath and smirked. "And, if the opportunity arises, to take out the "king" himself."

"This is correct, Ms. Haruno." The man shifted in his seat, pulling the thin briefcase up from the ground beside him. With a slight exhalation he set it on the dining room table just to the left of them.

"We are prepared to offer a great deal of money. And, of course, we'll take care of each and every expense." He opened the briefcase to reveal, as Sakura had known it would, a rather large sum of money. Hundreds bound together in multiple layers; at least 3 million dollars in the briefcase alone. Sakura reached for one of them, flicked through the dollar bills and mentally recounted her previous estimate. 3.2 million was in the case, to be exact. Returning her attention the suited men before her, eyebrow raised, she crossed her arm and sniffed.

"You'll have to do a little better than this. You must know that I don't work for less than astronomical prices." She smirked, reclining against the chair with the assumption that this would be the end of it. The man, however, chuckled, causing Sakura's own smile to fade leaving behind an icy blankness in its' wake.

"Ms. Haruno, you must think us stupid. The multiple sources we used to find you all warned against any sort of ambush…we wanted to see why." He cleared his own throat, closed the case and pushed it towards her. "This was just the cost for speaking to us. We will pay 10 billion if you accept the mission, and another 90 if you accomplish said mission. And we are more than willing to negotiate." Sakura's eyebrows shot upwards, something akin to surprise flashing momentarily across her face before arrogance replaced it as she whistled in appreciation.

"That's a lot of money you're throwing around. Just who is it that fights so hard and offers so much for my services?" The man shook his head offering only a tiny smile as an answer. A frown flitted across Sakura's features then as she took in the attire and demeanor of each of the men in her small apartment. While fidgety, they were obviously the best of the best with regards to secret service. They were all rather large men, each at least twice her size with the smallest of them, the man in the chair, still having a good foot or so on her petite frame. To say they were "well-cultivated" could easily have been an understatement. Despite the somewhat rough manner with which they had first met her acquaintance, they each had a level of calm stoicism that was bred in people from a young age. They were, very obviously, beyond the normal thread of people often experienced in everyday society.

"I'm not exactly comfortable accepting something so dangerous from an anonymous benefactor who offers to pay fairly generous sums of money for a mission that is, more likely than not, going to get me killed." The man before her simply shrugged and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he met her jade green eyes with his dark brown ones.

"Who hired you is not important. Let us say…that you are working to better the universe. To save the human race from utter annihilation and destruction." Sakura rolled her eyes and re-crossed her legs.

"Oh please, save your self-righteous spiel for someone who cares." After a moment or two of silence, during which the various men standing in her tiny kitchen stood as still as physically possible.

"Not that I much care." She shrugged, running her hand (her fingernails painted the same sea-foam green as her eyes) through her short crop of hair. "So long as you triple what you offer me."

Silence spread like a disease through the room; she was fairly sure she saw their leader, who had neglected to make any sort of an introduction, pale a few shades. Again her smirk returned as she brought her dainty hand to her face, examining her fingernails as she waited to hear that her services were no longer required or requested. That she was asking for far too much, being too unreasonable. Maybe they would even beg, plead on behalf of their "cause." Eventually that would lead to demanding, threatening and trying to force her into their servitude which would, when this was attempted to no avail, would return to the begging. Some had even managed tears, sobbing and false emotion that hadn't even made her blink in response. They were all the same, these bringers of justice. These soothsayers of death. They made her sick. Her skills were…beyond any prior or current assassin in history. She could kill anyone or anything under any circumstance, and not once had she been caught. Not once had she ever slipped. "Mistake" was a word that was nowhere to be found in her vocabulary.

She was, to be perfectly honest with herself, rather surprised that they had located her. She had jumped from planet to planet before landing herself on a remote, distant little heap of a planet, fraught with poverty and filled nearly to the brim with people who were fantastic at keeping to themselves. They left Sakura alone, left her to do as she pleased and never bothered her for anything of importance. She had even come to know her neighbors on a first name basis, borrowing the occasional stereotypical cup of sugar….

Life had become, for lack of a better term, sweet. Her days were slow and languid in her run-down apartment. Even now, as the men sat silently before her, she found her gaze drifting to the window which was, so quaintly, located just above her kitchen sink. The plant was looking rather pathetic in comparison to the bright streaks of sunshine filtering in through the pale pink curtains but, nevertheless, it was her plant. And, dead or not, it was a symbol of her now silent life.

This was not to say that she did not, in fact, miss her…occupation.

However, her last job had been…far too easy. Taking out some insignificant, poor excuse for a political leader who had done everything but burn his nation to the ground. The people had been dying, and so she had taken their request, their plea, out of pity, despite the fact that the man and woman who had approached her hadn't even enough to cover the costs to meet with her. Even now she could not help but ponder what curious self-centered reasons must have convinced her to take the hit. The fat slob had been taken out pathetically easy; he had cried, wet his pants when she had forced the poisoned capsule in his mouth, and begged even up until the point where he could no longer breathe. The light had left his muddy brown eyes easily, and he had been left with nothing more than the evidence of a heart attack… The papers had been filled with images of celebration and joy of the people, even as their own leader took charge. The last she had heard of the little republic, the people were reclaiming their land and rebuilding their world. And yet, she could not help but feel disgusted with herself. The hit had been…easy. Far, far too easy. That which had followed had been nothing more than semantics to the woman. The only thing that had mattered was the hit, and the hit had been sickening in the simplicity of it all. And then it had hit her… This what her "profession" had come to; the occasional murder of some pompous, dirty politician who had overstayed their time in office… A tool for society and their most disgusting of ways.

She had vowed at that moment that until she was presented with a challenge, there would be no more hits. No ifs. No ands. No buts.

Since then she had disappeared, blended into the world and become a somewhat secluded young woman who preferred to keep to herself, but who maintained a polite attitude to even the children in the complex who bolted down the hallways or played ball just behind her motorcycle in the parking lot. It had been when she realized that there could be no skill to be found in the killing that she had stopped. Pulled out of the business for lack of care rather than old age or remorse. Her twenty-sixth birthday had just slid past, nearly unnoticed, and she felt nothing one way or the other about it. Though she had hoped one of the neighbors might have given her another novel; the last she'd been given the year prior had been a wonderfully suspenseful novel that she'd read several times-

"You have yourself a deal, Ms. Haruno." All at once Sakura was brought back to the current happenings in her kitchen with a surprised jerk of her shoulders. She stared at the man before her with deadened eyes and a tiny smirk.

"You're serious." The man nodded, his own little smirk beginning to surface.

"Indeed, Ms. Haruno. We will pay you 30 billion if you accept, and another 270 billion if you succeed for a total of 300 billion dollars." Sakura cocked her head to the side, straightening her posture and crossing her arms, eyes locked on the man before her.

"You don't expect me back from the mission." The man's smirk widened and he chanced a shrug.

"You are not the first that we have attempted to hire, Ms. Haruno. Nor the second, nor the third…nor even the twelfth. You may not truly understand the sheer impossibility of what we ask of you, but if you are capable of taking care of this task, our employer will have no trouble paying triple what we initially offered." Again that silence, edging from the icy woman seated at the table to enshroud each of the men in turn.

And then there was a sound that surprised even Sakura. It began with a snicker, edged slowly to a giggle before rocketing forth with a gusto that was out of the norm for even Sakura. Before long she was doubled over, tears welling in her eyes as her belly began to ache and that tender place just behind her ears throbbed with pain. So long… TOO long. It took her a couple moments to calm herself, during which the man before her seemed to have grown uncomfortable and was appearing as though he wished to leave. Quite suddenly she stood, wiping the tears from her eyes as she approached the dead plant on her windowsill. Picking it up, a twisted smile still quite visible on her sensuous lips, she turned back to the men, leaning herself against the sink as she did so.

"So long. It's been so LONG since I was approached with something that got my blood boiling." Her hand twitched, shattering the pot in her hand. The man who had been fidgeting prior flinched before attempting to regain his composure. "Yes… yes, it has been far too long. A challenge…" She trailed off, her tone filled with something more powerful than excitement and more daunting than intimidation. The prior emptiness that had classified her sea foam green eyes had dissolved, leaving behind a fire that threatened to burn everything in her gaze. Shards from the pot remained imbedded in her hand, unnoticed as her arm dangled at her side, dirt and blood mingling on the linoleum floor. Pain was something unimportant, out of the picture in light of these current events.

"When do I leave?"

A/N: Vague though it may seem, I wanted to see how people might respond to this before filling it out any more. The second chapter, if indeed there will be one, will further explain the world this is set in and better illustrate what it is Sakura is getting into. In any case, if you'd like to see more, let me know. As always, thank you for reading!