Escape artistry

2. The praying boy (then)

What Izuna noticed first when he saw him was how incredibly visible his bruises were. Just like the night sky close to the moon seemed more blue than the rest of it because it was contrasted to the white of that moon, this boy's bruises seemed incredibly sharp against his skin, that was as white as milk thinned out with water.

Even if he was born only a year earlier than Izuna, he was much taller than even the boys who were older, and despite his bruised face speaking of violence, and despite being thin, he looked strong.

He looked at us the others he stood in the doorway to our bedroom. Izuna had expected the others to make fun of the new boy, but they didn't. God save them if they did, was the impression that Izuna got.

The boy frowned, as if considering if he should speak or not. Then, he tossed his longish, cotton-coloured hair out of his face, and went and started unpacking his meagre belongings on the available bed.

The boys went on about the day with school and chores. New boys were given one week without any of it to adapt, so they didn't see much of the boy, especially seeing he seemed to keep out of the way as much as he could. Izuna found himself wondering what had happened to the boy's face. Who had beaten him? Was it his parents? Or was he from the streets? It happened sometimes, that the mistress felt for one of the round-raging boys in the village and took him home.

From the very start, there were rumours about him. Some of them hardly believable, as that one about him being raised by wolves. But other rumours made Izuna wonder.

"He's not even an orphan. His father is alive. He just didn't want him anymore."

Another rumour was about his name, being such a rare one as Tobirama. That one, at least, they found out was true.

But even if they rarely saw the boy other than at bedtime, they did hear him. Every evening, exactly two minutes before they had to be in bed, he would get down in his knees and pray.

His prayers were not in Russian. They weren't even words. They were chants, and Izuna recognised the words as Latin, even if he couldn't distinguish between them. The other boys of the bedroom were clearly irritated by this, but Izuna found he loved it. Tobirama's voice was so young and light yet so controlled, and he created an incredibly soothing vibration with his vocal cords that Izuna felt, even if he knew it was stupid, spoke directly to his soul.

Izuna found he longed to the evenings when Tobirama would chant. It took away some of the pain of never having been liked enough to be adopted, of never having been able to keep his teachers and the mistress content by his poor results in the school subjects that required any form of calculus, of never having made friends because the other boys would be ashamed to be seen with him.

Sometimes, Izuna even fell asleep to the sound of Tobirama's chanting voice. 

One week passed, which meant Tobirama would come with the boys to the classroom for the first time. The boys were divided in two, older and younger, and Tobirama would of course join Izuna in the class of the older boys. It made Izuna felt shy and excited at the same time. He had this unexplainable urge to befriend the strange boy. At the same time, he was terrified of him.

So when they went to the hall that was used as a classroom for the older boys of the orphanage, filled with dark wood and old, donated books and even a globe in the middle, Izuna walked a few steps behind him. Maybe, he would dare to approach him in the classroom, Izuna thought.

But any dream of sitting next to the boy in one of the two-seat benches evaporated as Tobirama went straight to the back, sat down on the seat furthest away from the teacher, and put his bag of books on the seat next to him.

Izuna decided to sit in the far back, too, but on the other side of the classroom from him. He felt that he would be uncomfortable if he couldn't keep an eye on him.

The first class was history, which Izuna tolerated since it only required him listening carefully and taking notes. It was the next lesson he couldn't wait for; literature.

Literature wasn't a subject taught in common schools in Russia, but since the orphanage mistress could do basically whatever she wanted here and she saw knowledge of literature as a vital virtue, the boys had two classes a week.

Izuna thrived, as you tended to do within subjects that you were naturally good at. The professor always gave him one book to read each week as a special treatment, which he read within the day, and then happily answered the extra homework paper on.

Now, they were going to discuss the book they all of the boys had gotten to read the past week, and even if some of the other boys put their hands up to read the samples the professor asked of us, nobody did it quite as vigorously as Izuna.

But then, the most peculiar thing happened.

"How about we ask our newest student to read? Tobirama? Would you mind reading the beginning of chapter 8, the first paragraph?"

The room fell dead silent. Tobirama had a frown on his face, and he drummed with his fingernails against the wood of the table.

Izuna had noted that Tobirama didn't seem all that active in class. Sure, he had taken notes, but he never raised his hand, and didn't seem engaged. It didn't surprise Izuna; he thought it went well with his laid-back personality. But now he'd been asked a direct question, Izuna thought it could go one of two ways. Either, he would do it nonchalantly, or he would excel.

It seemed like it would be the first option.

Slowly, he opened the book to chapter 8.

And he began.

"The I... In- Inwards? No, Incense. The incense ba-ba-burn? Burned. The incense burned... And..."

It was excruciating. Several of the other boys started sniggering. Izuna mostly felt sorry for him. Didn't he know how to read? No... Something in the rhythm as Tobirama read told Izuna he had been taught to read. Something else was off. Did he suffer from poor eyesight?

"No wonder pretty boy is so quiet!" one of the other boys shouted. "He's a moron!"

The professor slammed his hand down on his desk, but it was too late; everyone already laughed.

Everyone except Izuna.

And Tobirama, of course. Tobirama's face didn't change at all. He just stood up and left.