A/N: I have decided to go back and edit all of my stories. So here is the edited first chapter. I'm doing this because I originally lost all of my stories when my old computer died; this is my excuse. There are some things I left out that I wanted to include in each on of them, and I decided that I couldn't leave them out because they were kind of important.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Chapter 1:


"Yet do I fear thy nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness."

-William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616), "Macbeth," Act 1 Scene 5


I never understood why I took in Uchiha Sasuke when I found him six months before he died. I happened to unwittingly discover him in an alleyway half dead; it still is a mystery to me, to this very day. He never told me what happened to him that night. His face was plastered all over the news even though they did not know his name. To the media and the rest of the world, he was just some murderer who didn't care whether you had a family or a career. Still, I think it was his eyes that pulled me in and forced me to take in a "known" killer. Maybe I hoped he was different from the cold hearted serial murderer that he was supposed to be; maybe it was because I didn't want to be alone anymore; even if I knew he might kill me in my sleep.

Sasuke would call me kind-hearted and naïve, and to this day I still don't know whether to be insulted or happy I received a compliment from him. I never really understood what he meant when, in fact, the girl he fell in love with was nothing but a selfish teenager clinging to the little company she ever received from someone who truly loved her.

Naruto and the others would always tell me that I had taken him in because I could never ignore a person in need, no matter who they were or what the circumstances. I've always felt a rather bitter feeling like the sour taste of lemons in my mouth when they said that. Sasuke was not selfish – I am. This pink haired thing is selfish, annoying, an ignorant fool, and someone who can't understand why he went to that temple to fight him.


I was close to finishing counting the money in the cash register at the grocery store I worked at on that warm, June night six months ago. Ino, my wonderful blonde best friend, worked in the same store as I did and we would often joke about things while working. It was the 25 of June when I found him after work while walking home. Instead of just leaving Ino, I should have walked home with her, but I was faster at her when counting things. I always had been.

"Wait for me, Sakura!" Ino called.

"Hurry up then, Ino-pig," I snapped back. Our boss had already received the correct amount that had been in the cash register from me. Ino desperately clung to the hop that I would wait for her to finish, but I had homework to finish before school on Monday. She was terrified of walking outside in the dark ever since the murders began.

I think know what you're probably wondering: How could I leave my best friend alone in the dark with some psycho on the loose? Call it a gut feeling, but somehow I knew that whoever he was, he wouldn't touch Ino. Yamanaka Ino is one loud girl and she draws unwanted attention to herself wherever she goes. Then again, she is very pretty.

"You should talk, Sakura," replied my blonde haired, blue eyed cohort. It was obvious she was nervous about walking home alone. I'd done it for months and nothing had happened to me! I wasn't much of a girl to look at. Pink hair, wide forehead; all in all, I was pretty plain looking. That does not include the shocking part of my hair being naturally pink.

"Ino, you don't live far away from the store," I scolded. "Quit being a chicken; you'll be fine." She stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout. Ino could be a crybaby sometimes, but I understood why.

Takahashi-san, our boss, had told us to be careful when we walked home. She really was a kind individual who had my total respect. If anyone could hold her own against an angry customer or disgruntled robber, it was her. In fact, I had seen her stare down very disgruntled customers on a many occasions.

"One more thing Sakura, are you going out tomorrow with Hiashi-san?" asked Ino, dully. My friends didn't like them, and Ino had been among the most vehement when telling me to refuse Hiashi's proclamation of love. I stared at her blankly for a moment, my brain taking its sweet time to register what she was saying. Tch…bastard; If I wasn't so afraid of him, then I would have left him a long time ago.

I nodded my head lethargically. My friends had no idea that he hit me and verbally abused me. It wasn't for them to know. If they had known, I'm sure that they would have strung him up by his big toes and become yakuza. Sure, it would have been fun to watch, but I could never tell them. I would only have involved them in my problems which they really did not need to worry over.

"Have fun!" ordered Ino, in a fake, cheerful voice, as I walked out of the store waving at her with an equally fake smile plastered across my face. It was better if she remained ignorant though I hardly believed in remaining blind to the truth myself. Ino was perceptive, and I was fairly certain she knew what was going on.

Neji and Gaara would often ask me where I got the bruises from and I would give them some lame excuse such as falling down some stairs or walking into a pole. I'm pretty sure that Neji didn't believe a word that I said since he was so good at reading people. Gaara would have killed Hiashi on the spot and, to be honest, he kind of deserved it, but I couldn't just let him die in a horrible painful way (it would have been nice though).

In some districts, the city of Kyoto is surprisingly quiet at night; street lamps lit the concrete and pavement, paper lanterns in the Gion and Pontocho districts. The streets were deserted after dark in the residential areas.

I was halfway home when I a noise broke the stillness. The impenetrable silence had been broken by a rattling breath, and then a moan of pain followed it, breaking through the warm, muggy June air. A cold shiver went up my spine. Something wasn't right, but there had barely been any noise.

My feet stopped moving. I looked around, but I didn't see anything. Shaking my head to clear it of the befuddling fear, I told myself it was my imagination.

"That's strange, I could have sworn I just heard something," I muttered under my breath looking down the alleyway I had stopped in front of trying to see into the dark shadows. I had fallen into the habit of talking to myself.

There was nothing visible. Silently, I stood there waiting to see if my mind had just been playing tricks on me. Patiently I waited with baited breath; my chest felt as if it was about to burst from my heart pounding so loudly. It was the only thing I could hear. What if it was someone that was murdered by that bastard on the news? If it was, then he or she could still be alive.

Convinced there was nothing there after waiting for a few more seconds, I began to continue home when I heard that noise again. It was a groan, a low groan that came from the alleyway. That groan was pained. Someone was in distress.

I turned, facing the alleyway and called into the abysmally black depths like some fool.

"Hello? Is someone there?" I asked. Truthfully, I was so terrified that he would jump out at me at any moment and kill me where I stood, too shocked to move in time. At that moment, I was regretting not waiting for Ino to finish counting.

For a few seconds there was no response. A small rustle met my ears as I stood there straining to listen, a can rolling on the ground, and then a dull thud as something or someone hit the pavement.

'I'm probably going to regret doing this…but whoever is there might need help.'

Carefully I picked my way through the dark alley, hoping I wouldn't trip over some garbage. Beer bottles from passing transients were littered on the ground and the little moonlight that broke through the cloudy sky aided me some. My eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch black stretch of city space. I twisted my purse's strap in my hands out of apprehension, my palms sweating.

I silently cursed the weatherman for being right for once since I couldn't see very well still. Taking another step, my eyes fell onto a mess of black cloth on the ground that was easier to discern as I squinted my eyes together. Hesitantly I walked forward not realizing it was a person until I saw pale skin peeking out from the black mess of cloth. Sucking in a breath, eyes widening, I thought for a moment I had just discovered a murder victim that was still alive, but barely.

"Are you alright?" I asked kneeling down and touching the person's shoulder gently. A low moan of pain was his only response. I grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I looked into the boy's face. It was the murderer and he was even more breathtaking up close, but I instantly felt panic growing inside of my chest.

Up close he looked to be about my own age, maybe a little older. I would never have imagined a murderer would have been so handsome. It was like a painting had come to life even though he looked lifeless. A ringing resounded in my ears at the thought. Something wasn't right. I had just heard him moving seconds before.

I studied his face, silently wondering why he was lying there in the middle of an alley. Honestly, I couldn't understand how someone like him would end up dying in the middle of the night, but if he had killed those people it would be better for me to just leave him there. It would be retribution for the things he had done.

A silver gleam caught my eye. Reluctantly, my eyes followed the glint caught by the faint ray of light from the street lamp. Embedded in his shoulder was a dagger. I grimaced at the thought of being caught in a dark alley facing that. Whoever had crossed his path obviously wanted him dead.

My eyes turned back to his finely sculpted face. His pale features seemed to be etched with sleep. Harsh gasps broke through his lips. It was amazing he was still alive. Indecision seeped through my bones – I was trying to convince myself to leave him there. I peered at his face again.

Gingerly I pulled the upper part of his body into my arms; I hadn't expected him to be so heavy. Blood seeped into my clothes. My eyes found a tint of crimson on his ivory neck. I stumbled a bit as I pulled him towards me so his head rested on my shoulder; knowing that you shouldn't move an unconscious person. His jaw clenched in pain at the sudden movement.

"Can you hear me? Hey?" I whispered to him practically hissing in ear. Obviously, there was no response besides a slight twitch of his head. It must have been like listening to the outside world from underwater; everything probably sounded muddled.

I looked down at the knife, wondering how I was going to get him to my apartment without driving the knife any deeper.

"WHAT? You want to take him home with you? Are you insane? You don't even know who this boy is! Not to mention he's a fucking serial killer!" my inner self screamed at me. I calmly ignored her as I adjusted him so I could lift him easier.

"Well…what else am I supposed to do, I can't just leave him here!" I mentally retorted. My inner self was quiet for a few moments as she considered that statement.

"You could take him to a hospital!" my inner self conveniently spluttered back at me. That would totally not blow up in my face. I could see the outcome as clear as day: The doctor walking up to me and saying, 'Um, excuse me, miss, you do realize that you just brought in a known serial killer?'

My parents would love that. It just paints a beautiful Monet painting in my mind.

"Then I would get questioned!"

"Those reasons are valid, but just tell the truth! It's not like you're going to get into trouble. What can you do for him?" I glared at nothing but the wall of the building in front of me. Time was of the essence and I really did not want to spend time arguing with myself.

"Help him!" I replied to the voice inside my mind after a short pause. I could hear my inner self snort quite audibly.

"Your head, if he dies at your place." Oh, lovely. What a lovely, lovely thought. It was so kind of her to remind me that if he died I would have to call the police and then the police would ask me, just like the doctors if I took him to the hospital, WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING WITH HIM IN MY APARTMENT! Again, my parents would not be laughing and I doubt anyone else would either.

"Shut up!" I mentally reprimanded her and slowly stood up.

I rose from the ground. His legs immediately gave out under his weight, but I supported more of his weight. I looked into his face and saw his eyes darting under his eyelids. Moving him was not helping. His hand brushed against my arm and I shivered. The skin was too cold for that of a dying man. It was 

preternaturally cold, like the snow. My belief had been that only corpses could be as cold as ice. At that moment, it appeared that even the dying would grow cold, but shouldn't a body still retain some warmth?

I carefully hoisted the boy onto my back and felt the hilt of the knife dig into my shoulder causing my charge to give a small cry of pain as it bit deeper into his skin. Biting my lip, I carefully shifted his body so that the knife wouldn't dig further into his skin; he whimpered when the pressure on his wound was released. I pulled his arms in front of me so I could hold onto him. Hunching over slightly I began the now even longer walk home.

Warm blood soaked through the back of my shirt. I inched out of the alley being careful not to disturb him in anyway and looked around for pedestrians of any kind. If they saw him…they would freak, call the police, and I would be, well, for lack of a better word: screwed. All the way to my apartment I could hear his shallow breathing and I was terrified he was going to die. Then I would just be lugging around some dead weight.

"You better not die on me, or I'll hunt your ghost down and kick your ass," I muttered to him scathingly. His only response was a low moan of pain as his head rolled and touched my neck gently. The boy's raven hair felt like silk brushing against my skin, and the scent of crushed pine drifted off his skin.

My face began to burn, and then there was a rather persistent, screaming voice in the back of my head with the subtle reminder that the person that was causing me to blush was most likely going to kill me when he woke up… if he didn't die first.

I made it successfully to my apartment building with my charge still alive – which was a definite plus. It couldn't have taken me longer than thirty minutes. My legs trembled from the boy's weight on my back. It felt like I was carrying around a whale, not a human being. I stood in front of my apartment door and glared at it for a few minutes. Why did lockable doors have to be the cause of such problems?

"An unexpected challenge maybe, Sakura?" asked my inner self in a jeering tone. My eye twitched in response.

"The hospital is farther away, want to say anything to that?" I asked out loud. My face turned bright red from embarrassment.

With difficulty, I managed to rummage through my purse to find my keys. I pulled out the offending keys that jangled stridently as I shoved them into the lock and twisted it until a barely audible click sounded. The apartment was silent. Buzzing from the appliances in the kitchen was the only noise that broke through the oppressive silence.

Kicking the door closed behind me, I fumbled for a light switch. I was unable to move my arm without disturbing the unconscious boy on my back, so I used his own arm to turn on the light. My apartment wasn't usually disorganized or untidy, but I had been throwing things around that morning as I rushed to leave.

The light flickered on and I moved bit by bit towards the bathroom. Turning on the light, I looked around at the spotless room. It was a shame that I would have to clean it again when I was done tending to his wound. After rummaging in the hall closet for some towels, I returned to take care of him, knowing that he could still die.

I carried the green cotton towels into the bathroom and spread them out on the tile floor. They were going to be stained once I was finished with my work. Instinctively, my hand moved towards a door on the vanity, pulling out some of the medical supplies my mother sent me from overseas in case I needed them. It was almost as if my mother thought that I would take care of myself if I got hurt. Well, she had taught me quite a bit about medicine already.

I immediately set to work. Time seemed to slow down as I carefully treated his wound.

He opened his eyes when I pulled out the ghastly blade embedded in his shoulder. His eyes were stunning. They were two onyx stones staring out from a back drop of ivory.

When I had pulled out the knife, he almost screamed, but the cry had died in his throat before it could reach his mouth, eyes rolling back up into his head as he fell into unconsciousness. Luckily, the blade had missed his internal organs.

After what seemed to be hours, I had finished

His bed for the night would be one of the futons kept in the apartment. These were kept for the instances when my aunt visited from Osaka. However, these visits never happened. I never knew why since it was a topic that was never discussed.

Quietly, I left the bathroom to prepare his resting place and find a pair of pajamas. When my parents left to work overseas, my father had left all of his old clothes behind. My father as one of the people that would tell you they were leaving but never tell you where they were going.

When I reentered the bathroom I found him exactly where I had left him: lying unconscious on the floor. He looked dead lying on the white bathroom floor now flecked with crimson. It looked like he wasn't breathing, but the slight rise and fall of his alabaster chest indicated he was alive.

I dressed him in the flannel sleepwear, my face burning as I did it. At least the pajamas fit. I would have to buy him new clothes once he woke up. Wearing vintage clothing from the 70s may not make him very happy. Once I was finished, I half dragged him out to the living room and pushed him onto the futon making him as comfortable as I could.

It took an hour to clean the bathroom. I went back to my room and sat down at my desk flipping on the light. The math problems just stared back at me as my focus slid away from my fingertips like water. My eyelids started to droop and before I knew it I had fallen into unconsciousness.