Calculus

17. (Izuna)

I spent the day after our wedding walking the grounds with my husband.

I had asked Tobirama what would be less painful for him, to join or stay behind. He's asked me politely if he could stay and train with the other soldiers. I had told him he was free to do whatever he wanted the last week before I left. I couldn't bear to hurt him.

The winter air was chilly, and I hid my nose in my scarf. Me and the prince of the orient, whose name was Hanu, was having an amicable conversation, in his home language as I was educated in it, about the differences in traditions between my culture and his. I was surprised to find it enjoyable. I didn't dislike the man. He was kind and considerate, always asking my opinion on things, never talking down to me the way other men had done throughout my life. Under different circumstances, I believed we could've been friends, and life with him didn't seem like a miserable one, even if it wasn't what I would've chosen for myself.

Hanu told me about the orient where we were moving, the hot and dry climate, the beautiful buildings, the food he loved. He constantly asked about the counterparts in my country with great engagement, always curious. His positivity was contagious, and I found myself chatting happily with him and I couldn't help but be relieved that Tobirama wasn't there to see it. I showed him the place where I took my electrical experiments to try them out, the weapon shed, the stables with the horses. He never said anything about the two of us and the love that was expected between us, and I appreciated that.

All in all, I had a good time.

But I longed terribly for him...

He stood guard at dinner, close to me. He had his helmet on with his visor down, and he looked straight ahead the entire time.

It hurt my heart.

But I couldn't blame him. I knew how much he loved me, and my love for him hadn't changed or diminished in the slightest since I was forced into marriage. But I would have found it incredibly difficult to be put in his situation. He handled it better than I ever would have been able to. And I was so, so proud of him, and longed to tell him tonight, when we slept next to each other which I had decided we would do every night until we were leaving, leaving him no choice. I hadn't told him yet, I couldn't wait to see his face when I told him; I believed he would like it.

I talked to my husband to my right, my father to my left. My mother still ignored me, and her entire demeanour spoke of a hurriedness, of a stress that she wanted me to be on my way sooner rather than later, but it didn't pain me that much anymore. 

When dinner was finished, I walked next to my kind husband to my father's room.

But to my great disdain, Tobirama didn't join us.

I spent the entire evening deep in thought, frowning. I lost track of what was said, and when Hanu grabbed my arm gently, asked if I was okay, I realised how strange it must look that I was the only one not laughing when a joke was told, the only one not raising my glass when a toast was made.

"I'm sorry", I said. "I'm just a bit tired after everything new that has happened."

Truth was, I hated this new strangeness. I was a person strictly bound to routines, and did everything to not have them changed. Even if I was far more relaxed in my forced marriage than I could ever have believed, the thought of moving to a whole new world filled me up with anxiety that I tried to suppress. And on top of that, Tobirama was gone, another piece of familiarity lost to me.

But I was proud at how well I could handle the situation.

And that was thanks to Tobirama, who had taught me so much. 

I walked eagerly to my room. After the strangeness between us, I longed to take him into my arms for once, to comfort him the way he always comforted me. I shivered, imagining having his head in my lap, stroking his face. I would take a cloth wetted in hot water, carefully rubbing his red stripes away, massaging my own fragrant oil onto the skin on his face. It would be hard, I knew, keeping away from each other, touching and loving each other to a certain limit, a limit of friendship, but no more. But I knew we had the capacity to do what was right.

When I reached the corridor where my rooms were located, I literally ran, I was so eager. I reached for my doorknob, opened the door, and...

I immediately knew something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

It was an incredibly peculiar sensation. Every nerve fibre ending told my body to turn around and run, run like I'd never run before, as far away from this place as possible. An image of the high cliff, on which me and Tobirama made our promise, flashed before my eyes for some reason. I couldn't say exactly what it was that initiated all these sensations, but as soon as I opened the door, a sense of unfamiliarity struck me, and I felt my trachea tighten.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. The perfume was unfamiliar; a fruity, bloomy oil. Under normal circumstances, I would've enjoyed it, but now, it made me gag. I did not understand why. The second thing I sensed was the air. It was hot, humid, filled of breaths.

Then there were the sounds...

The sounds were the worst part of all. I knew what they were. Of course I knew. But my mind refused to interpret them for what they were. It wasn't until I walked to the door that connected the room with my desk to Tobirama's room and saw what was happening, that my brain could make sense of it all.

It was the moans of a man and a woman bedding each other.

Or rather, it was the sound of Tobirama and a beautiful, heavy and curvaceous woman with dark hair bedding each other.

She was on her belly, her back arched, her cheek into the mattress, moaning sweetly and in pace with Tobirama's thrusts who, in turn, stood on his knees behind her, his knees still bruised from all the times he's been down on them for me, holding her waist with his hands. When I came in, he looked at me from beneath his fringe, drenched with sweat, and didn't seem to care I'd found him. The woman ignored me completely.

"Leave", he said, not unkindly, actually incredibly politely, not stopping what he was doing to her. 

I felt cold dread clench at my heart.

I turned and ran.