Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or any of it's characters.

I haven't been active in the Naruto fandom for a long time and I actually first wrote this at least four years ago, but it was much shorter. I just recently found it again, added more to it, and thought I'd post it. Meh. Anyway~ This version is a huge improvement from what I had originally written, so I hope you like it. :)

I have just returned from battle. Another war that could have so easily been avoided. But we have won. Again. I am sent to the hospital, where I know I will see the girl I'm in love with. Yet she will never be in love with me. I call her name. She turns and sees me, her eyes squinting slightly, half from anger and half from what I can only assume to be sadness. She leads me to an empty room and quickly gets to work, her fingers dancing across the surface of my torso, mending the wounds deep beneath the flesh. Her eyes are now intensely focused on the task at hand.

"You're hands look pretty bad. Worse than I think I've ever seen them. The rest of you is probably worse though, huh?" She sighs quietly. We do not speak another word to each other for the rest of the time.

Speaking of hands... Hands are such confusing things. I look down at my own. Scars and blood and a few bruises, all unwanted, grace the surface of said hands, as well as over the rest of my body.

I pause for a moment, thinking.

These hands of mine... I have done so much with them. As much good as I've done with them, I have also done just as much bad.

I hate them. How they have mercilessly killed those that the village I am so loyal towards, deemed dangerous. How they could be the cause of so much unnecessary bloodshed. How, without second thought, they could end the life of another human being. How, without second thought, I could...

These hands...

I love them. They are mine and mine alone. I hope that one day there can be a moment when I am able to hold Sakura-chan with these hands. To love her with these hands. To have my love returned. A moment when she doesn't feel the need for her fist to collide with my face, sending me flying across the room, or wherever we happen to be. Just one moment. But hope is all I can do. I know that day will never come.

My hands. It is a never-ending cycle of love and hate that I feel towards them. And it will never stop. As long as there are battles to be fought, I will fight them. As long as there are people who need to be cared for, I will care for them. Only when I have died will my hands be useless.

Thanks for reading and whatnot.

Reviews are love.