Note: I don't own Naruto. I own this fan fic. I have left small whited-out messages in this story so that if you copy me: a smart person would see that this story was stolen.

'Life, as it is, is a sharp piece of glass.'

-Garasugakure Proverb

Kiizumaru sank into the shadows. Unheard and unseen, he'd go through the alleyways of the inn heavy village towards the town shrine. Soon, he'd leap into a cart which was heading into shrine dedicated to some idiotic all powerful god. Hiding within a wooden crate, the village-less ninja entered the large behemoth of a shrine.

Then, as he pulled the cover of the crate over his head, his world turned to a world with only his four remaining senses- without sight. The movement into the shrine was bumpy from the worn wheels of the cart. He smelled the shrine's burning herbs float from the central area where the false priests prayed to their false god. Eventually, through listening and smelling, the cart was left alone in a small inventory room.

Lifting the top of the crate off from the inside, he moved out of the box laden cart. His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the nearby candles, and he noted that the door was ajar. The walls around him were made of yellowish limestone slabs, probably taken from the nearby mountains of Stone Country.

Swiftly, he moved out of the closet that was filled with breads and onions. His feet moved over the green carpet, not making a single sound as he headed deeper into the sanctum. The goal of Kiizumaru was to kill the man who was impersonating the 'false god'. And, oddly, he was ordered to do it from the High Priest of this back water religion. It was odd.

It was for money, and money was something the fallen ninja didn't have an abundance of. Frankly, it didn't matter who he had to kill- he just needed to kill the person and make it look like an accident. Simple. But, as all stories turn out, the plot is never simple.

His eyes looked past a corner to look at the inner sanctum of the large shrine. Red blood was everywhere with small circular engraving hammered into the ground. Each bit of the floor and walls were engraved with an odd and unknown kanji that Kiizu had never seen before. He was used to seeing blood. Did this room have blood, how ever? With all of his ninja training, he brought that oddity into question.

There was so much blood in the room that it made his noxious. Blood covered the walls, the engraved holes and circles on the floor, and collected in the steeper bits of the engraved walls. Bodies were thrown to the western side of the room, and had been sucked of all their blood. The people called this religion 'the religion of inner love, of blood'.. And now he saw why. If the common man saw what was happening here, the townsfolk would stop sending their children off to become priests of this cult.

Their children. On closer inspection, he saw that the bodies that were piled several meters high were not of old men or women. Those were the bodies of the orphans, the noble toddlers, and every other young child that had entered the shrine to be protected, helped, or brought into the order itself.

The Chuunin was blown back. This village killed their children for a false god which was actually a ninja with a bloodline. Sweat poured down his head, as he saw a person in a black cloak enter the same hall as him.

His eyes looked around, and examined the whole sacrificial pit. Resisting the urge to vomit, he noted the simplicity of how the doorways were set up. There were two exits. One went to the front of the shrine, while the other headed into the maze he had just exited. To his right, a large statue of a 8 headed snake stood- colored red by the youths' blood from the village.

A statue of a 8 headed snake: Orochi, the 8 tailed demon? He had seen the Kyuubi, and now didn't doubt for a second that a demon with the features of a snake really existed. Why would they worship a demon, though?.. It didn't matter.

Kiizu burst into motion, unhitching the Fuuma shuriken from his back. He'd end the cult that very day.