(Edited first chapter as of 3rd February, 2015)

Before we jam, I have just one thing to say.

For every author, the number of readers who are interested in his/her story is important. Keeping this in mind, I am aware of the fact that Assassin's Creed is a significantly smaller fandom.

Therefore, if you're here as a Naruto fan, but have little to no knowledge of Assassin's Creed, it's my humble request to not ditch this straight away.

And to any of my readers who are Assassin's Creed fans, you guys rock! How's Unity going? Did you like it?


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does, bless his beautiful soul.

12.18.2014 : The cover art for this story has been done by the amazing 'PinkRose3101'. If you see this, thank you so, so much for an amazing cover!


Prologue:

Let me tell you a little story...

Hidden at first like blood on a rose,

Wicked demon, your eyes stay closed.

But then with time the petals fall,

Nothing is hidden, nothing at all.

Wicked demon opens it's eyes,

A flash of red, a feral cry.

Wicked demon shows it's face,

There's no escape, you're trapped in a maze

Hidden at first like blood on a rose,

What was still has now unfroze.

Hidden at first like blood on a rose,

Wicked Demon,

The End Is Close.


The Hostage Return Plan

by SomeDamn Author

- Nothing Is True -


The first rays of the sun were just piercing the windows. The stars were waging a losing battle against a slowly brightening blue blanket. The air was so cold it could bite, and somewhere in the fortress-town, a young boy was already making his way through the rooftops.

"Tch," 'this is getting easier everyday.'

He brought his hand in front of his face, as he sprinted noiselessly through the rooftops. The cold air whipping his visage felt soothingly pleasant. There wasn't even a hint of his being bothered by the cold as he traversed his daily routine.

His running was neither hurried nor forceful, yet it wasn't the lazy jog he'd seen many people commit to. The sure-footed manner in which he sprinted indicated a startling lack of ignorance in the art. Licking his dry lips, he let his eyes adjust to the lighting: a deep, dark blue encroached only by the periodically positioned torches, and even they were beginning to fall victim to temporary redundancy as Dawn grew steadily in stature.

He grunted as he jumped and landed onto a relatively empty area, a training ground. The parkour hadn't even scraped his seemingly endless stamina. Drawing a breath, the boy looked up to see someone was already there, another young boy his age.

Similar in height and physique, the two boys were apparently expecting each other. No words were exchanged. Two pairs of eyes met momentarily.

"Ready, Darim?"

They were off, sparring lightly.

"Feeling rusty?"

"You wish, kid."

The silence that seemed to hang in the air was only interrupted by the odd grunt and the gasps. Cold and gray at first sight, their fortress-town was by no means what it looked like. The houses and the trees seemed to blend into each other, and there was never lack of shade. The cool, calm air of peace was never disturbed.

"Done," fifteen minutes later, Darim was panting. The other boy was clutching his sides. He'd been jabbed a few times, but he'd landed a few good ones too.

"Let's go," the boy said, "You know what Master'll do if we're late."

Darim chuckled, his father did have that effect.


The Master silently observed the two boys who stood before him. A light smile graced his usually stoic features.

Dressed in a flawless white robe, the man had a regal, graceful aura to him.

The young boy wasn't a native of Masyaf, no, he was merely a hostage captured and taken on one of his quests, At least, that was what his report said.

What surprised him was the fact that the boy had come willingly. And soon enough, the Master had realized that there was more to the boy that met the eye. He was no longer 'merely' a hostage, at age thirteen, he had grown up to a be fine young boy.

Now, however, the time had come to dispel him from their ranks. The time had come for the boy to return to his village, a far off place, somewhere in the east.

He was glad Darim had decided to befriend the energetic young boy. Now, it was hard to tell if the two were brothers or not.

"Today's an important day, young Assassin," he said, watching the boy closely. The boy panted in reply, as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. The fortress-town of Masyaf was known for its merciless cold, his fingers were burning out of numbness.

He smiled softly, yet the excitement was evident in his electric-blue eyes.

"Tell me your name, young Assassin." Altaïr's voice was the same it had always been; low and serene.

The boy lifted his head, and his blonde hair shook lightly. "Master Altaïr," he paused, "My name is Uzumaki Naruto". He cocked his wrist, and a small, lithe, yet extremely sharp blade descended with a soft, barely audible 'schnick'.

"Nothing Is True," the boy smiled, and the man nodded, "Everything Is Permitted".

With the cry of an eagle piercing the air, Naruto leapt from the platform he was standing on, and as the wind caressed his face, the boy grinned, repeating the sacred words,

"Nothing Is True, Everything Is Permitted."


Masyaf was by no means an ordinary settlement, for it housed one of the most sacred and awe-inspiring Orders one would ever hear about. In the midst of the myriad of houses, shops and trees, certain men trod the dry soil of Masyaf. Ever alert, ever watchful, with senses trained to the point of asymptotic perfection, these men were shrouded in mystery, enveloped in a war of never-ending darkness.

A darkness that was unforgiving, with a future that held not the faintest glimmer of hope, unless...unless...

But now, as dawn slowly gave way to the day, Masyaf rose to embrace its hostage, unmindful of the fact that the plan had been set in motion, a course of events would unfold that would shake the very foundations of humanity.

The board was set, and the pieces were ready: The sneak, The knave, The thief, The wit, The warrior.

The shadow of two hands seemed to hover above them, each on opposite sides.


Hello there! You seem to have stumbled upon this fanfiction, and if you were noble enough to read till the end of this chapter, I'd recommend you read this too.

First off, I'd like to start with clarifying a few things that are almost always asked when reading Naruto fanfiction:

No Yaoi/Yuri.

No Gender-bending.

No Demonic Naruto

No Harem

No friendly Kyuubi who tutors Naruto and OP's his ass to next year

No FemKyuubi

No Sakura or Sasuke or any character bashing

No crossover elements other than Naruto and Assassin's Creed.


And now, some stuff that might, or is happening in this story:

Potty-mouth. Usage of colorful language later on.

Pairing. There will be a romantic pairing later on.

Slight deviations in certain characterizations. A few characters will act differently as compared to their anime/manga counterparts.

The Apple Of Eden.

Extensive use of badass writing.

A little bit of the occasional poetry.


If you're reading, regardless of how many years after my latest update, the one thing I would like you to do is drop a review. It could be the worst kind of criticism that you can think of, it could be words of encouragement.

It could even be 'Potatoes are potating, I'm liking your story' for all I care.

Just give me a few seconds of your time, and that'll cheer me up to no end, even if I'm reading your review six years after my last update.

And after you've done that, I have just a few words for you:


Welcome! Sit back, relax, and listen, for I have a little story to tell you, a story of how man is pitted against the one thing he loves most:

Power.

And the poem is mine.