Kansha

There was no doubt I was ill beyond self-recognition. The skin between my fingers webbed together in a sickening wrinkled white and cream. It had been that way for a while now, though no pain originated from it – only the bones. This unknown illness only affected my hands – at least, outwardly. On the inside, my stomach was churning, twisting and turning in unimaginable pain. My head span my vision down corridors of black and white and infrequently grey. Were my eyes being affected as well?

What with my village lacking medical supplies or -education, no one could accumulate from my symptoms what I was most likely suffering from. It was unknown whether it was contagious, but the village elders were not keen on taking the time to test it or find out – I was banned from the village and being an orphaned street-child, no one would call back or miss me. The elders arranged a traveling kit for me, packed with food and supplies as well as a blanket, a spare set of clothes, soap, a blunt kitchen knife and a flashlight.

I left, neither looking back nor putting on an effort to act miserable or bitter. My village was mediocre and underdeveloped anyway. Growing up on the street, I had only a handful less than most people did.

I had been traveling on foot for only three days now, but I was exhausted only an hour after I started my fruitless journey. The isolation I could still cope with. I had, after all, raised myself since the age of ten and had taught myself how to survive with only my two bare hands. The irony concluded that my hands were suffering the most. I forced myself to laugh at this.

By the end of the third day I was sufficiently worn out. My feet were raw from having no shoes and the dirt had scraped the skin off rather aggressively. I took shelter under an old oak tree, succeeding in starting a small fire with a few stray twigs I scraped together.

My first hour of solitude was reasonably peaceful. I stared into the fire for what felt like the longest frozen moment of my short fifteen year-old life. My feet were numbing from the pain and my hands ached to such an extent, I was sure I would let slip a few tears from the throbbing. My eyes lingered to my hands – they looked like the hands of an old woman. My fingers were twisted and my knuckles swollen – what spooked me the most was the pastiness of them. If it were possible, I could make them out only a single shade darker than white.

A rustle in the bushes directly in front of me yanked me out of my assessment. My ears picked up on some voices – one a girl's, non-mistakenly and the other a young boy. I thought I heard a third one as well, but the pain in my hands was distracting me. A few seconds later a face poked out from the bushes. A girl, with eccentric pink hair and jade green eyes climbed out of the leaves and twigs and let out a light gasp when she spotted me in my dulled state. She turned her head to call over her shoulder.

"Naruto! Kakashi-sensei! Come quick!" Almost heroically, she rushed to my side. I stared up at her with half-closed eyes. I heard more rustling – probably the others she had called out to. The girl only focused on me though and lowered herself to her haunches until she was on my level.

She spoke softly, like the comfort of a friend or sister I had always longed and prayed for. "Are you all right? Do you need help?"

I mustered a weak smile at her consideration. What a kind soul. As far as my memory served me, no one had ever talked to me in such a compassionate tone. I wondered vaguely why.

"Hello," I croaked, my throat throbbing from infection. I tried to raise my hand in greeting but it only lay limply in my lap, worn-out and pale-dead.

I noticed a blonde boy with a taller masked man. There were no doubt they were ninja, because they wore forehead protectors with a respective symbol to their village – this was all I knew about ninjas.

The boy stared at me curiously, but the worry on his face was so evident, I hazily tried to figure out how people could be so worrisome of a stranger.

"She doesn't look so good, Sakura-chan," he told my new pink-haired acquaintance. "Look at her hands."

'Sakura-chan' gently took one of my hands in one of hers and felt along the skin, bones and knuckles after taking off one of her gloves. She then pressed her hand to my forehead – her skin was warm, coated with concern and care.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, again, very softly. Her eyes found mine – hers were so alive. They held passion, life, love, and all the things I had never even remotely experienced.

"Yes," I answered, my head flaccid from my pain. It felt like it was increasing, but I pushed it away for the time being. I was making friends right now.

"I am a medic-nin," she informed me. "Tell me where it hurts and maybe I can help you."

I did not miss the 'maybe' she worked in – this was somewhat contradicting. Yet, I had never dreamed my luck would lead me to a medic-nin in the middle of nowhere, let alone a team of ninjas.

"Thank you," I responded. The blonde boy and the medic-girl smiled at me. The masked man I was not too sure about, but he gave me a supportive pat on the shoulder before turning to make a bigger fire of the one I already started. The blonde boy, later introducing himself as Naruto, put his rolled up sleeping bag behind my head to act as a pillow. He then helped the medic, who told me her name was Sakura, to aid and examine me.

Sakura worked in silence, only taking my temperature and healing all my external wounds. My feet were soon as good as new and my throat pain-free. My hands were her primary concern after that. She and Naruto spoke to me in kind voices. Occasionally their sensei, named Kakashi, would add to the conversation or just laugh along.

"Do you have a family?" Sakura asked while scribbling something down in a journal. I frowned, the muscles in my face somewhat tired from years of not using them too much.

"No, my mother died when I was nine of illness. My father passed away before I was born," I explained, mentally overjoyed at sharing a conversation with someone. I may have imagined it, but it dulled the pain.

"So, where you headed?" Naruto asked interestedly from where he sat beside me.

"Nowhere. My village banned me due to my poor health," I answered casually, neither poignant nor regretful.

Naruto paused, possibly because he wanted to comfort me. He threw me off guard when he laughed instead.

"You talk weird, you know?" he commented, earning him a scowl from Sakura and a friendly chide from Kakashi. I smiled weakly, enjoying his take on humor – I did not mind. I hadn't smiled in weeks.

Later that evening I sat by the fire, the ninjas sleeping soundly around me. Kakashi took watch and kept the fire going. My pain seared through my veins from every inch and corner of my body – part of me wanted to die on the spot, yet another part wanted to stay and get to know the ninjas. It must be so … cool … being a ninja. I wondered what they were capable of. Could they move at the speed of light? Could they fly? Could they turn invisible? I didn't want to die yet - I wanted to ask them and find out.

Somewhere in the darkness, I found peace in my pain and ultimately fell asleep. Soft voices woke me out from the bliss of still and darkness.

"-not physically stable. I can't do anything for her here. If we took her to Konoha with us, we could let Tsunade-sama check her over. Her hands are the biggest problem. There is something eating her from the outside." It was the sad soft voice of my new friend, Sakura.

"I'm surprised she's held out so long on her own. She's very vulnerable and a target for stray ninjas or thieves. We should probably take her back home with us," Kakashi voiced and my heart picked up when hearing the word 'home'.

Would they do that for me? Was it possible that such kind souls existed in this world of anguish and solitude that I have lived in for so long? Where was this Konoha? It sounded like a beautiful place. And who was 'Tsunade-sama'? Sakura's mother? And more importantly, did she have pink hair too? I had to restrain myself from jumping up from under the blankets and begging them to take me to this heaven called 'Konoha'. My imagination let loose on what it looked like – everyone there was probably a ninja. I got excited and my heart-beat dulled out my pained hands once more.

Naruto's snores gave me an excuse to sit up leisurely and rub my eyes. I blinked at Sakura and Kakashi, who looked at me with questioning and expectant eyes.

"Hello," was all I could muster, before pushing myself back and resting against the tree trunk of the oak.

Sakura smiled. "How do you feel?"

"Better, thank you," I said, truthfully.

"And your hands?" she wanted to know, getting up from her seat to kneel beside me.

"They are the same," I answered, taking them under my gaze. They were the same as ever indeed - wrinkled, like a ninety year-old woman. Sakura rested her gentle strong hands on mine and I looked up at her fair-skinned face.

"What is your name? We forgot to ask, sorry," she apologized with a little laugh of embarrassment. I racked my brains and dug into my memory, searching for the answer to her request.

Kansha.

I am Kansha.

A/N: Hello! Just a one-shot I randomly thought of. I wanted to write something to try and 'warm up' for my other fics. Just get my fingers and brain ready, you know?

Kansha means 'thankful' in Japanese. Grateful mean 'Kansha suru'. It refers to her character – in reality, she has a back story full of neglect and seclusion. Despite losing her parents at a young age, I wanted her to be strong-minded and somewhat naïve (in a good way).

I put her in contrast with Sasuke, who blatantly left Team 7 for his own selfish goals and reasons. Kasha is just grateful for meeting them.

I want to put more explanation in this Author's Note, but I'ma bit tired right now. It's been a while since I've accepted constructive criticism, so…why not? Tell me what you think it lacks, I'll write a second part and compare the two parts so I can recognize my flaws.

Thanks for taking the time to read guys.

O promise to update Up Until Now in two weeks or so.

Peace.

(^^,)