Is that really how the rest of the world views me? As some useless attachment to a village already over run with castoffs? Is my part truly so unimportant?

I know now that I was merely acting a part scripted to me by some unknown hand, encoded in a virus. That makes it no easier, looking back.

The worst part is remembering that feeling, of truly belonging. Something that, for once, was not a lie. I didn't have to pretend, or grovel. I was allowed to voice my complaints, with little fear of repercussions. But I still was relegated a thankless job, a castaway part, that of a failure as a son and rather miserable excuse for a house keeper.

Despite being unhappy then I can recall my experiences, and feel the drastic difference between then and now. I truly am an unnecessary player, a piece who has out lived his usefulness, and is ready to be cast aside.

Lord Orochimaru doesn't need a spy who has unmasked himself. Instead he wants geniuses and children, one because of the power they offer, the other for their unquestioning loyalty. I am neither. No matter how hard I try, I shall never be so uniquely talented or driven as one such as Sasuke or Naruto. And, though I may hid my thoughts behind a mask of cool assent, he knows me to well to accept the 'lord of lies' as a child.

So I am useless to him, but far too dangerous to let go. For, in the end, I am a spy and a thief (what other definition of a ninja is there?) and if I leave I take with me far to much information about our home. Being a suspicious man, he will never believe that I wish my almost-home no harm.

I appear to be in a rather dire predicament. I no longer wish to be part of the one group willing to protect me, but I cannot leave. And though I have no desire to take the logical alternative, the option is becoming more and more appealing.